


The Tenth Realm

by valeriacatulli



Category: Léon | The Professional (1994), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bail Organa Lives, Canon-Typical Violence, Dream Sex, Drunken Sexual Situations, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghost(s), Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Leon the Professional Lives, Mace Windu Lives, Minor Leia Organa/Lando Calrissian, Minor Luke Skywalker/Lando Calrissian, Multiple Crossovers, Occasional Bloodline and Aftermath references, Occasional Rebels and Mandalorian references, Oral Sex, Padmé Amidala Lives, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, The Nine Realms, Time Travel, force projection, intergalactic travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 151,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valeriacatulli/pseuds/valeriacatulli
Summary: “I was meditating in my room, and Rey appeared — you know that girl who rents from Padmé? She appeared in my room,” Ben tells them.“You’re saying you had a vision of someone you knew on Earth?” Luke looks disbelieving. Ben nods. “Hmm,” Luke continues. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense. I mean, Leia and I had that unusual bond because we are twins. Unless it’s possible this Rey is your sister?”Leia snorts. “I think I would know if I had twins. This guy was big enough as it is…” She trails off and her face darkens. “If Han had a secret daughter while we were together, I swear to God I will transport back to Earth as soon as I possibly can and kick his ass.”Ben blanches for a moment, then shakes his head violently. “No, no, Mom. I don’t think you can blame Han for this one. I think there’s reason to believe she actually was born in this realm. Ieldraan.”“Wait, what?” Luke jumps from his chair. “That can’t be possible."Deep knowledge of the Marvel Cinematic Universe is *not* a prerequisite for this fic. It's mostly multi-era Star Wars with some favorite Marvel characters (Thor! Nick Fury!) and weird timelines.
Relationships: Jane Foster/Thor, Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Mathilda Lando & Leone "Léon" Montana, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 177
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

_Somerville, Massachusetts. October, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Every time the door chimes, Rey imagines something amazing might happen. Her parents might not come back for her, but she's always had a feeling that an opening door meant new possibilities. 

Nothing prepares her for the first time something life-changing actually does happen. Because, to be honest, it feels like every other time the door chimes.

A man walks in to Café Nabú. He's nondescript, taller than the average man but very old. He has the watery brown eyes of the very aged behind round wire-rimmed glasses. His salt-and-pepper hair is trimmed short, more salt than pepper, and recedes in a pronounced widow’s peak. His beard is quite grey and highlights the gauntness of his cheeks, the roundness of his prominent cheekbones. The collar of his charcoal grey woolen trench coat is turned up and he slouches haltingly into the room with an air of suspicion. In one hand, he carries a large paper shopping bag by the handles; in the other he holds a thriving potted plant.

He puts the bag down on the floor--the contents sound heavy--and settles the plant on the counter, turning it a quarter turn until he's satisfied about its arrangement. Then he looks around the room. He peruses the coffee menu, the bossed copper ceiling, the row of little succulents and Padmé's prized bonsai that sit in the bay window by the large table at the front where two men, black hair sprinkled with white, concentrate intently on a chess board. The newcomer looks thoughtful, maybe satisfied with what he sees. It's the kind of cafe he wanted to come to, she guesses.

So, the same as any other unfamiliar customer. Nothing important to Rey. She finishes restocking the sfogliatelle in the glass pastry case before she takes her place at the register.

"How may I help you, sir?" she says cheerfully. Start things out on the right foot with a customer, and everything goes more smoothly. It's one of many things Padmé has taught her about cafe service that are actually true of more parts of life as well. 

"Latte, per piacere. Dovè la padrona? Mathilda?" the man asks politely.

Rey doesn't actually know Italian, but Padmé mumbled in it from time to time so she gets the gist. "I'll have your coffee right up in a moment, signore. And the owner is out at the moment. But who is Mathilda?"

"Mathilda è la padrona. And, uh, I do not mean café latte. Simply a glass of milk, please." 

"The owner is a wonderful lady named Padmé," Rey corrects him. "Sorry to disappoint. But, say," she pauses. "Do I know you from somewhere? You look rather familiar."

The man stares at her meditatively, his eyes hooded like a hawk. "I think you may be right, bambina," he mutters eventually. "I think perhaps, as a girl, you know Sant' Ecca sensei?"

"That's right!" Rey exclaims delightedly. "He was my adoptive father. Wonderful man. A shame he got so sick five years ago. I wish I could have done more to help him out."

"Not to worry," the older man assures her. "We all, the neighbors, we looked out for Lorne."

"Neighbors..." Rey says thoughtfully. "Wait. You're Mr. Montana! From the shooting range."

"That's right," he smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "And I think I recall your name too. Regina Sant' Ecca? But you are all grown up now, you can call me Léon, like my friends do."

"Sure thing, Léon. But I'm Rey Santé now. I changed my name legally after Lorne died and I figured out there wasn't any Saint Ecca in the first place. Getting people to spell it had always been more trouble than it was worth. Now, what brings you to Somerville today?"

The man smiles enigmatically as Rey slides a tall glass of whole milk across the counter to him. He tilts his head to one side, lifting the glass with a large, age-spotted hand that is still quite free of tremors, and drinks it standing up, in the Italian manner. "I used to live in Winter Hill, you know."

Rey shakes her head. She didn't really know anything about the man. He and Lorne Sant' Ecca had been cordial neighbors. Mr. Montana ran a firearms safety training facility in Everett, Massachusetts. Rey lived with her father next door, upstairs from Sant' Ecca's judo dojo. Neither man had seemed very outgoing, so Rey hadn't developed any kind of acquaintance with the gruff weapons expert. She was usually busy anyway with her homework, or working her part-time job doing oil changes at the nearby garage.

Léon continues. "It was decades ago, when Mathilda was a teenager. I was a hothead of thirty, and I got into some disagreement with a dirty city councillor." Rey's eyebrows rise. Léon had never seemed like a hellraiser, even if he was a bit mysterious.

He sips his milk, grunting in appreciation. "Anyway, I found it profitable to relocate to avoid my...situation. I opened my business in Everett and that has been my life. But I have now retired, and I want to check in on my old friends. I thought I would find Mathilda in New York, but she is a tricky one."

Rey gives him a dazzling smile. "I don't imagine you planned to see me here, but I hope you find your Mathilda and your other friends."

"Grazie, sí," Léon responds. "Mathilda was like a daughter to me. By the time I opened the shooting range she was taking care of herself, off to study science at City College. Such a bright young lady. I was surprised to learn she came home and opened a cafe."

"Well, I wouldn't be too certain Mathilda is the same person as the owner of this cafe. You might need to keep looking," Rey points out.

Léon laughs. "Allora. Aspettiamo e vediamo, no?" Drink finished, he shoves a crumpled bill in the tip jar, takes his parcels, and moves to a small table in the corner. After arranging the plant to his satisfaction again, he takes a small notebook and a pen from his inner jacket pocket and begins, laboriously, to write something.

Half an hour later, when he puts away his notes, Padmé still hasn't come in. Léon takes his bag and his plant, nods to Rey, and leaves, the door jingling softly behind him.

****************************

On Friday afternoon Léon is back. Once again he arrives when it's just Rey minding the cafe. He has the bag again, and to Rey’s surprise he has a different potted plant. He wears a snug woolen beanie in acknowledgment of the day's weather. Again he looks around the room, nods his approval, finds a place for his plant, orders a glass of milk, asks for Mathilda.

He's just said the name, standing at the counter to take his milk, when the other door opens, the one behind Rey. The door from the employee parking spot back in the alley behind the cafe. Padmé. The older lady smiles at Rey and waves her portable cashbox; it was routine for her to stock up the till with small bills each morning. As she approaches the register, Padmé looks around the room, her eyes instantly locking onto Léon.

Padmé gasps. Léon crows a triumphant, almost happy-sounding laugh. "Mathilda Lando!" he shouts, gesticulating wildly. "Dopo troppi anni!"

"Yes," Padmé replies in that smooth low voice of hers, "I think it's been more than sixty years, to be honest. How have you been, Léon?" Padmé has made her way around the counter by this point to envelop the old man in a warm embrace, the two exchanging a flurry of cheek kisses.

"I have been just around the corner, carina," he says solemnly. "In Everett, where it so happen I knew your barista bellissima, Rey. I never knew you came back to Boston." Rey thinks his voice sounds almost accusatory, but Padmé just smiles brilliantly. 

"Rey, you can feel free to go home," she says to the younger woman. "I'll close up today and see you there this evening."

Rey nods. More time to work on her thesis research. She'll take it, even if it means the awkwardness that is dinner with Ben Solo sans the comforting buffer of his grandmother. 

*********************

Rey is taking a roasting pan out of the oven when Ben comes to lean at the entrance of the room. The doorframe is carved in the manner of many of these older New England homes: the molding topped at either corner with a round medallion. His head comes disturbingly close to one medallion. He reaches up to grasp the lintel and hangs down, stretching his back until it pops. She isn't staring, but she almost doesn't notice that the roasting pan is about to knock the kettle off the stove. 

After a quick recovery, she's dishing out chicken and potatoes on the bed of greens she'd arranged earlier on two plates. Ben grabs the bottle of Alsatian plonk and two glasses and follows her to the dining table. It's covered in the ornate brocade tablecloth Padmé favors. Rey is always afraid she'll spill something, but there is something to be said for the aesthetics of living with people who, to Rey's standards, are unimaginably wealthy. 

To the best of Rey's knowledge, Padmé owns this three-story home in Davis Square, on the border of Somerville and Cambridge, outright. If she sold it, developers would convert each level into one or two flats for tech dudebros willing to pay three or four thousand a month. As it stands, the home is challenging for just the three of them to inhabit, because it has only one bathroom, on the second floor, complete with a clawfoot tub and not enough hot water. The room is such an odd shape that Rey surmises that when the home was built, interior plumbing might not have been a thing yet. 

Besides the issue with sharing an inadequate (though aesthetically charming) bathroom, the house is amazing. The kitchen is huge and easy to work in, with a door leading to the dank basement laundry. The dining room and double living room are filled with unique furniture, art, and vintage photographs. Padmé and Rey occupy two of the three spacious, sunny bedrooms on the second floor; the third floor is Ben's demesne. Rey tried to argue with him one time that they should switch, because the gabled roofs leave him at risk of bonking his head at any time. But he's agile and antisocial, so he wouldn't hear of giving up his kingdom. She hasn't mentioned it again.

Tonight Miles Davis is pattering from the record player while they eat silently at the overly large dining room table. When Padmé is present the room feels full; she has such an enlivening personality. When she's not here Rey is at a loss to make conversation with Ben. He's nearly a decade her senior, and served in some sort of hush-hush role in the military; now he is a technology security contractor. One or two weeks a month, firms in Boston and New York pay him obscene amounts of money to put on a collared shirt and berate their security policies in person (she thinks). Mostly he just lurks in his attic in Nine Inch Nails tshirts and a headset, hacking the planet or preparing his next TED talk. 

When Rey least expects it, Ben clears his throat and speaks first. "Where's my grandmother?"

Rey smiles. "She's out with an older gentleman," she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. Ben chokes. His brow furrows and he looks her right in the eye. "Seriously? Tell me more. Nonna Padmé has never been one for dating, Mom and I bugged her about it for decades."

"I don't think it was really a date, sorry," Rey backpedals. "The bloke is someone she knew when she was a teenager. Léon Montana. He must be 90-something."

"When she was a teenager?" Ben murmurs. He takes a few bites of his chicken, shaking his head silently as he does the math. "Nonna never told me much of anything about that part of her life. But if he is fifteen years her senior and she was a teenager, what's his deal? Do I need to go over there and protect my granny from some pedophile from the fifties?"

Now it's Rey's turn to choke. She takes a drink from her glass of water, then follows it up with a sip of wine, shaking her head as she gathers her words. There’s something about the image of black-clad, muscle-bound Ben Solo confronting the elderly weapons instructor that interests her in a way she didn’t expect. Probably, Léon Montana was once as tall and strong as Ben is now, but she has to guess that Padmé wouldn’t be too enthusiastic about her grandson threatening her friends. "I really don't think so. Padme seemed delighted to see him. Maybe like she saw him as an uncle type figure? Plus, you will not believe this coincidence, but I knew Léon Montana when I was a young girl, and he didn't really seem like a creep. Very much kept to himself."

Ben does look surprised by this information. "That’s a pretty weird coincidence, Rey. Damn. But maybe he just left you alone because he saw how you can handle yourself. Didn't you tell me you grew up in a judo dojo?"

Rey is surprised that Ben has been listening on the rare occasions when she speaks about herself. She smiles. "And you think Padmé can’t handle herself? Your grandmother is one impressive lady. What do you think she was like as a teen?"

Ben meets her gaze and shakes his head, swallowing a bite of food. "Literally no idea, other than that she was academically gifted and went to college at 16. Despite everything my mother and I asked, she will never talk about her life before she met my grandfather. And not much about her life with him either, except in the vaguest terms. I get that it has something to do with the job she had, but she takes it to extremes."

“Her work before the cafe? When she was a scientist for the government?” Rey asks. Ben nods. "Aren't there photos?" she continues. "Maybe her graduation, or her wedding?"

Ben shakes his head stolidly. "Nothing. Absolutely no photographs. It's like Padmé Naberrie didn't exist before her daughter was born in '72."

Rey's eyes widen. "Oh! That reminds me of something," she blurts. "Léon called Padmé another name. I think it was...Mathilda Lando. He was adamant that was her name."

Ben's brow furrows in thought. "My grandmother has always had secrets. She used a different name for her scientific career and publications, too, but it wasn’t that. Something very generic and American-sounding."

“Is she not American?” Rey asks. “Is that why she speaks Italian sometimes?”

Ben shrugs and pushes back from the table. “I think she’s American-born. First-generation, her parents were off the boat. Little Italy, that sort of thing. That’s why she bakes so amazingly.” 

“Like _The Sopranos_?” 

“She never let me watch it,” Ben says as he stands and begins clearing away the plates. 

“I haven’t seen it either,” Rey smiles. “We could watch it? If you don’t have to work this weekend? I don’t.”

Ben looks at her impassively. “Sorry, I’m going to take a pass. Violent shows aren’t really my thing anymore.” With that he turns and trudges slowly up the stairs to his lair.

Rey frowns. She felt like they were getting closer. And what does he mean aren’t his thing anymore? Maybe he means after being in the military. She cringes. So much for emotional intelligence. Her taciturn housemate could well have PTSD; she has no idea what horrors he saw. 

Rey sighs and decides to water the houseplants. Padmé has such a lovely collection. One or two are species Rey can’t identify for the life of her, but she’s learned to care for all of them. 

Watching _The Sopranos_ alone doesn’t sound like much fun, so Rey retreats to her room to text her friends and flip through her robotics lecture notes again. If she gets it out of the way tonight, she can spend more of Saturday outdoors. 

Ben’s footsteps cross her ceiling heavily and she hears the creaking of wood as he flops down on his bed. 

*****************  
Later in the evening, Ben wiggles the mouse to return his monitors to wakefulness and settles in his ergonomic chair. From this vantage he can see out the gable window. There’s a big oak tree swaying in the wind, and he spots the neighbor’s cat rummaging around in their yard. It’s peaceful. Rey’s peaceful. He doesn’t belong here.

First things first he checks his Google Alerts to see if there’s any infosec news he needs to be on top of. Unfortunately this is one of the days that a personal alert pops up amid the stream of professional ones. It’s a headline from the _Daily Mail_ , but unlike most of their garbage, this one rings true. 

“Hollywood Actress Leia Solo Back in Rehab. Estranged Wife of Solo Group Founder Han Solo Was High During Vegas Set, Sources Say”

“Fuck,” Ben whispers, rubbing his hands across his face. “Mom, why are you such a fuck-up?” He’ll have to break the news to Padmé when she gets home. He’s sure his dad will take care of suing people for libel; anything for his carefully crafted business reputation. But someone will have to take care of Leia. Or try to.

The sun is setting. He’s not going to be very effective at coding right now, with all the weird stuff about his family happening today. Mom’s in rehab and Padmé apparently has sprouted a past. Maybe he’ll take a nap and try again later. Sleeping through the night hasn’t happened for Ben in years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey learn about Padme's violent childhood, and comfort each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 includes some events adapted from the 1994 movie _Léon: The Professional_ , by Luc Besson. If you haven't seen it, it was Natalie Portman's breakout role. I'm a big Besson fan. To suit my plot, I have altered the circumstances and ending of Léon's story. Sorry if I spoiled any aspects of it, though.

_Somerville, Massachusetts. October, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

  
The sun has set outside Café Nabú. Padmé shoos the regulars out the door twenty minutes early after conducting all the usual cleanup rituals. She’s quite lively for her 70-odd years. 

Now she sits reminiscing at her round corner table with a man who is just as serious as she remembers. She thinks about the day they took down the corrupt city councilman who had murdered her little brother.

> _Young Mathilda had, as usual, charged into the situation with more determination, more self-righteousness and courage, than sense. This was her mode of life, and it's what had saved her, had led her to take refuge with the mysterious Léon in the first place after her family was gunned down._
> 
> _The result of her fearlessness, though, was that Léon had rescued her from the city council offices in a very...visible manner. And now they were under attack by an entire brigade of law enforcement officers who were armed to the teeth. Léon had shot about a dozen, but they were now shooting grenades and smoke bombs into the apartment._
> 
> _"You must go, Mathilda," he insisted again and again. "Meet me at Donny's restaurant." And he shoved her into the hole he had made in the wall, into the ductwork. She crawled down two floors' worth of ducts, holding Léon's beloved potted plant and sobbing silently, violently. What if she never saw him again? It couldn't be!_
> 
> _When she emerged from the heating ducts in the basement of the apartment building, she remembered what she had on her back. Placing the plant gingerly on the floor she carefully opened her whimsical, brightly colored school satchel. Yes. It was still there: the disassembled sniper rifle she had concealed in her bag when she decided to carry out her hit whether Léon liked it or not._
> 
> _The hardest part was what came next. Well, the hardest part after trusting Léon that he would survive the firefight, after leaving him alone. She shut her satchel and swung it over her shoulder, then picked up the plant. Finding the basement's exit, she climbed a dark staircase that emerged below a sidewalk where dozens of tense police officers were patrolling back and forth. Choosing a moment when no one was looking directly her way, she slipped out of the iron gate and began to walk quickly away from the scene, her head down in hopes that no one would notice her dirt-smudged and bloody forehead._
> 
> _At that moment, at least, fate was with her. So Mathilda took another chance. Instead of heading for Donny's restaurant, she crossed the street and entered the lobby of the apartment building opposite. "Delivery for the fourth floor," she piped sweetly, waving the plant at the concierge. He was an old man, mostly blind and deaf, probably. He smiled and nodded. The old men were always fond of her._
> 
> _She ran up the stairs like her life depended on it, until she came to the roof. She assembled the sniper rifle quickly and leaned over the parapet, her vision trained on the entrance to the building opposite. Before long, her hawk-like watch paid off. The horrible murderer who had slain her innocent little brother appeared, shooing a number of the riot cops out of the building. She didn't wait to wonder why he was sending other law enforcement officers away when Léon was still at large. She just aimed, released her breath, and fired._
> 
> _With the detached vision she would only experience again many years later, in an entirely different universe, Mathilda saw the red flower of death bloom across his white dress shirt. The man crumpled to the ground, never to resume his hunt for her protector._
> 
> _Moments later the rifle was disassembled in the satchel and she was chatting with an elderly lady on the third-floor landing of the building. Of course, neither of them had seen any snipers or assassins running around._
> 
> _An hour later she was at Donny's, reunited with Léon. They found it prudent to keep a very low profile for the next two years, until she left for New York and university study._

“So, my dear Léon,” she says, her thoughts returning to the present as he wraps up a rambling retelling of how he recently closed his firearms range and finally retired, “Why did you work so hard to find me? It can’t have been a simple matter.”

He fixes her with that hooded gaze. “You do recall what I did for a living, before the shooting range. Finding targets who do not want to be found was my specialty.” Padmé smiles. "And since you taught me to read, I have been able even to use libraries, phone books, even the Internet to search for people." He bends to the side to fumble in his paper shopping bag. Momentarily he pulls out a ridged silver briefcase. It looks very sturdy, bulletproof even.

“Léon, I hope you haven’t brought firearms into my cafe,” Padmé scolds, though another part of her mind is thinking about the times in the past she has seen a briefcase just like this one. When she did, it held a relic of unimaginable power. How had Nick spoken of it? _“Legend tells us one thing, history another. But every now and then we find something that belongs to both.”_

Pulled from her reverie by the clicking sound of Léon opening the fastenings of the briefcase, Padmé is disappointed to see that this one contains only papers. There’s a familiar seal on the papers, though, and she gasps when she sees it. “Léon! Where did you get these? How do you—do you even have the clearance for this?”

Léon shakes his head slowly. “No. No, I do not have clearance. Do you really think they hand out clearances to retired assassins?” She has to grin at that. “This briefcase was left to me by my neighbor when he died. I will explain.” Padmé nods encouragement.

“Lorne was an odd man. Just before the millennium, he just appeared one day in the park across the street. He practiced martial arts with the little girl, his adopted daughter Regina. Your barista, as it happens. They were squatting in the abandoned storefront next door to my business. He and I started talking, and it turned out he was a crack shot. Also faster with a chokehold than most professional fighters. I liked the man, I don’t know why.” Léon shakes his head. “Ah, I know why. He reminded me of me. And you,” here he fixes Padmé with a piercing stare. “This young man, trying to care for a young girl, but he has the skills of a killer. He intimated to me that he had some challenges with ID. So I introduced him, and her, to people who could make the documents they needed to create a new life.”

“But this must have been years ago,” Padmé objects. “What’s the deal with the case of papers?”

“Lorne had an incurable cancer and he passed away a few years ago. Not long after Rey left for college. The other neighbors and I had to sort through his effects, because we didn’t know how to reach her and as far as we know, he has no other kin. This briefcase had my name on it. He must have planned for me to have it.” Padmé nods, willing him to continue. “I opened the case and found a note to me, all the fake documents I had gotten made for him, and these papers. The note said that the papers were the property of an agency called SHIELD, and that he figured that if anyone could find them it would be me. The folder was addressed to Dr. Jane Foster or Agent Nick Fury, both of SHIELD. I recalled that you changed your name when we went our separate ways and you went to college. Am I correct, Mathilda, that you are Dr. Jane Foster?”

“I know you were not happy that I changed my name,” Padmé sighs, nodding slowly. “But Mathilda Lando was a bit much at City College in the fifties. They’d barely allowed women for two years, so being a woman with a generic name was bad enough. Unspellable Italian would have been even worse. And now, you see, I’ve changed again. Back in the other direction: utterly unspellable.”

“But the briefcase,” Léon demands urgently, though a smile flits across his lips. “Do you know who it belongs to? Were you meant to receive it at some point in the past?”

Padmé looks at him with a steely gaze. She takes the silver briefcase from the table and settles it at her feet. “Not if you’re ever going to speak of it, I wasn’t. But yes, Léon, I will take the briefcase and make sure it gets where it needs to go.”

Léon smiles. “Thank you, Mathilda. Or whatever you like to be called these days. I wish I had been able to watch the life that you built.”

“No one ever has been able to do that,Léon,” Padmé replies wistfully. “But if you want to be part of the life I have now, I would be happy to have you in my cafe. The milk, for you, will be on the house. Now, why don’t you tell me about your garden?”

Léon smiles and picks up the pot from where it stood on the floor next to his chair. “I see you’ve become quite the horticulturalist yourself,” he responds, gesturing around the cafe. "This one is for you."

*********************  
Rey is just getting ready to turn out the light when she hears two noises. The first is the front door. Padmé must have returned. She could go check on her, but she’s too cozy already and always feels odd in front of either of her housemates without a bra. 

The second noise is a tortured scream from directly above her. Ben must be having a nightmare. It's happened once or twice before; the first time scared the shit out of her. Apparently, Padmé hears it too, because they both reach the stairs to the third floor at the same time, Padmé clutching a heavy-duty silver briefcase. Rey motions her to go ahead. He might prefer an anonymous roommate to his grandmother, but she doubts it. Padmé did raise the man, from what she knows. 

Rey retreats into her room and clicks the door shut quietly, leaning back on it to listen. There are muffled voices from the third floor, then the sound of two sets of footsteps descending the stairs. Padmé knocks quietly at Rey’s door.

“Rey? Ben and I are going to talk downstairs about the man who came into my cafe today. Do you want to join us?”

Rey takes a deep breath before responding. “Sure, I”ll be down in a minute.” She throws on her favorite Tufts Engineering hoodie and some warm socks before following them down to the living room. Padmé has settled as usual in her classic ochre-colored wingback, and Ben is ensconced at one end of the large, comfortable sofa. Rey usually takes the plaid overstuffed armchair when she reads in this room, but one of the cats has occupied it now, so she sits softly at the other end of the couch from Ben. He looks sweaty and his hair is disarrayed. 

Just then Padmé seems to realize that it’s nearly midnight. “I know it’s a bit odd to be chatting in the middle of the night.”

“Don’t stay up on my account,” Ben mumbles, running his hand through his black hair. 

“We’re not. Rey was awake too, weren’t you, dear?” Padmé asks, receiving a nod in return. “But we might as well have something soothing while we sit here. Rey, can you bring over some Scotch? The good stuff.”

With neither class nor work to get to in the morning, Rey isn’t going to object. She collects the bottle and three tumblers. Ben pours. On the rare occasions they are all in the same room late at night, it’s their ritual.

“So, something has happened that I want to talk to you both about,” Padmé begins, swirling the golden liquid in her heavy glass. She meets Ben’s eyes first. “I know I never spoke to you much of my childhood or youth, but I think, in hindsight, I may have taken that too far. You may have felt more comfortable if you understood a bit more what kind of a family you came from. I can’t explain all of it,” she sighs, “at least not yet, but some things. And Rey,” now she looks at the younger woman. “The fact that you knew Léon is actually something we need to talk about.”

Rey is confused, but indicates Padmé should continue. “Go ahead, I’m all ears.”

“Léon Montana was my first love,” Padmé smiles. Ben chokes on his whisky, making her pause for a minute. “It was very unrequited,” his grandmother continues. “He was a thirty-year-old mob hitman and I was barely adolescent. But he saved my life when my family was murdered because my father was a lowlife drug dealer.”

“When was this?” Rey asks curiously. Ben’s eyes are staring out of their sockets. Apparently he was really in the dark about his grandmother’s early life. For good reason.

“Oh, in about 1949, 1950. I was doing my best to avoid attending my freshman year of high school at the time. Anyway, Léon acted as a father figure and made sure I got back on the path of studying and taking care of myself. He made me self-sufficient. But because I demanded it, he also taught me to shoot a gun and helped me…get closure for my family’s death.”

Rey and Ben exchange glances from opposite sides of the couch. Ben clears his throat. “Nonna, are you saying you got revenge?”

Padmé frowns at her whisky and takes a slow sip. “I’m saying there is no statute of limitations for premeditated murder in Massachusetts, so if I had gotten revenge, I certainly wouldn’t talk about it.” Ben’s eyes widen. His grandmother looks at him sharply. 

Ben throws back the rest of his whisky and stands up, pacing the further end of the large double parlor. "Damnit, Nonna," he grunts. "When I told you about my special forces career, what I'd done, and you said you understood...I guess I should have taken you at face value, huh?" He laughs bitterly. "Fuck."

Rey looks at her landlady and employer thoughtfully. She can’t imagine losing her family to violence, because she’d never been sure of who her family was in the first place. But she feels in her bones, viscerally, that she would have felt just like Padmé must have. The question that falls out of her mouth, though, is entirely not to the point. “When he called you Mathilda, Padmé, was that your real name?”

The older lady looks surprised by the question for just a moment, then smiles. “Yes, though I had no attachment to it. The parents that gave me that name were awful people. I changed my name from Mathilda Lando, which people mocked as a “wop name,” to an all-American boring name, Jane Foster, when I started college. That's the name I used professionally, though I was always Nonna Padmé to Benjamin. And his mother was born Leia Naberrie. Anyway, I ditched the Jane Foster when I retired.”

“Nonna’s career was very hush-hush,” Ben murmurs as he comes to sit back down on the couch. He sprawls over a little more of it this time, and pours himself another generous measure of Scotch. “You can think of her retirement as basically witness protection.”

Rey tilts her head to the side as she considers. “It’s amazing what an eventful life you’ve led, Padmé. And when I met you I thought you were just a business-savvy grandmother with a knack for excellent pastry.”

Padmé laughs heartily. “Dear, I’ve seen more than pretty much anyone else on Earth. Trust me. Now. I told you that Léon’s visit to my cafe today had implications for you, Rey, beyond just my desire to open up to the two of you about the kind of childhood that I had.”

“I do understand, now,” Rey cuts in, “why you were so eager to take me in when you found out I was homeless.” She doesn’t see the way Ben looks at her as she speaks to his grandmother about their shared challenges.

Padmé smiles. “Even if you were very unlike me, Rey, I would have been happy to help. You’re such a valuable employee and I will miss you very much next year when you fledge into the world of engineering.” Rey blushes. Padmé continues speaking. “By a very odd coincidence, Rey, you and Léon were neighbors for a number of years. And when your father died — an adoptive father, no?” Rey nods. “He left this briefcase for Léon, as someone he trusted.” 

Rey is leaning forward in her seat on the couch now. “Does it…does it have any information about my real parents? I’ve never remembered much besides a glimpse of a beautiful, strong, brunette woman telling me she’d come back. And a desert, of all things. I have no idea how I ended up in Lorne’s custody, or even if he abducted me. He treated me well enough, though,” she shrugs. She can feel Ben’s gaze on her, heavily.

Padmé sighs. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you what the papers in the briefcase say,” she says, “because I can’t read them myself. When I retired, I gave up my highest level security clearance with SHIELD, and that’s what I would need to read these papers.”

“Surely we could just read them and no one would be the wiser,” Ben objects.

Padmé raises her eyebrows. “Do you recall your Uncle Nick?” she asks. He nods. “He has his methods. They are infallible, at least on mere mortals like us.” Rey wonders about the gravity of that statement. Uncle Nick sounds like an intimidating character. 

Ben turns to her with an explanation, as if he could sense her wonder. “Nick Fury is an Agent of SHIELD, the super-secret government group. Nonna was a scientific researcher with them for her entire career. Did a lot of amazing stuff that can never be published because it’s too secret. Nick is imposing. He’s the guy who taught me to handle a firearm, and I think Nonna had him put in a good word when I wanted to go special forces.” He shakes his head, as if pricked again by a bittersweet memory.

Rey recalls the matter at hand. “If you haven’t read the papers, why do you know it’s relevant to me?”

“Darling,” Padmé says slowly, inspecting the last dregs of whisky in her glass, “The papers probably aren't. But your adoptive father had incredibly classified SHIELD documents in his possession. When I tell Nick, which I must do, he’s going to want to find out everything he can about your father, by any means necessary. If he knows that you are related, you might be taken into custody and interrogated.”

“No,” Ben growls, leaping back out of his seat. “We can’t let that happen. Rey has nothing to do with whatever weird shit your mafia dad guy and her guardian were up to years ago. She deserves to be left out of this, so she can pursue her dreams. No way in fuck you are telling Nick about Rey.”

Rey opens her mouth to protest, but Padmé’s appraising gaze at her grandson says it all. “No one said we were telling Nick about Rey. I am rather thoroughly resolved on keeping Nick entirely in the dark about Rey’s relationship to Mr. Whatever-his-name-was with the briefcase. Rey has changed her name, so she won’t be easy to find. I just figured I should warn her in advance, so she could avoid letting slip any information on her connection to this mysterious judo teacher.”

Rey catches Padmé’s glance and nods. “I understand. Thank you, both of you. I— I know, now, that Lorne was shady in some way. That much became clear when the university figured out my identity documents were forgeries, back sophomore year. I paid the price for that—I’m now DACA, and lost my housing stipend, which is how you ended up inviting me to live here when I was homeless— but I certainly never suspected anything was wrong about him when I was growing up and he was alive.”

“I know that, Rey. And as it turns out,” Padmé adds, “My friend Léon got those identity documents forged for you in the first place. If he’d just done his job better you could have kept your stipend,” Padmé laughs, “Though then I would have the misfortune of never having met you.”

“I’ll have to critique his friends' forging abilities when next I see him,” Rey answers wryly, finishing her whisky. Padmé looks like she’s considering retiring upstairs, but Ben suddenly slaps his hand to his forehead.

“Nonna Padmé, I forgot. There’s another thing I meant to tell you, in this shitshow of a day. Mom’s back in rehab.”

Padmé’s face falls. Suddenly you can see the lines, the gauntness, more than usual. She motions toward the whisky and Ben pours her another splash, which she again swirls. “I worry so much about your mother. I feel like it’s my fault, for bringing her here.” The younger people have matching expressions of confusion, but Padmé keeps muttering. “If only Han had meant all the lovely things he used to say back when they first met. She certainly seemed more lively back then.”

Ben’s face falls and he broods over his whisky. He’s always suspected that his mother is such a fuck-up in part because she had such a difficult son. But if Padmé’s confession tonight—or “not-quite-confession” as it were— is any guide, he’s not the first person in the family to feel violent impulses and act out. In fact, if he recalls correctly, many people thought his grandfather was out of the picture because he had been physically abusive. He’s never had the guts to ask Padmé about Anakin point-blank, but it seems quite likely that Ben is the product of a whole line of murderous, belligerent people. No wonder it broke his beautiful, hilarious mother. (Who also, naturally, had a hair-trigger temper like the rest of them.)

So he speaks up to console his grandmother. “It’s okay, Padmé. We’ll look out for her. She’ll bitch and throw things, and eventually she’ll get clean again, and we’ll all move on.”

Padmé nods defeatedly, then rises to go upstairs for bed. “I’ll see you kids tomorrow.”

Once her footsteps have receded up to the second floor, Ben collapses in on himself, covering his face in his large hands. “What a day,” he grumbles.

Rey scoots closer, placing one arm tentatively over his back, rubbing the firm muscles gently. “It’s okay, Ben. You’re doing what you can for them. And I really appreciate your standing up for me about the whole "taken in for interrogation" thing.”

He looks up and shakes his hair out of his eyes, smiling at her weakly. He pulls her into his side. It’s friendly, warm. They mostly ignore each other and live side by side in this big house. He thinks she thinks he resents her as a usurper, and maybe initially he did. But it makes Padmé happier to have both of them around, and even without that, it makes him happier too. She demonstrates the reason why again momentarily.

“Did you…did you want to talk about the nightmare you had earlier?” she asks quietly. He closes his eyes, steeling himself.

“I…on the one hand, no, I don’t want to talk about it. That’s what I told Padmé.” He takes a deep breath, centering. “But yeah, I think I would feel better if I talked about it. After the conversation the three of us just had, you can guess that Nonna and I have both killed actual human beings in cold blood, and you’re not running away, so what I dreamed in my nightmare…I hope that wouldn’t scare you away?” He pauses, unsure.

Rey burrows deeper into his side. It’s cozy, friendly. She wishes he was more approachable. He’s certainly got the body of her dreams, but she tends to hold off from people she doesn’t really know and trust. He seems somewhat tormented, but she knows that’s common among veterans. He also has a tendency to shut down, close himself off without warning. “It won’t scare me,” she reassures him.

Ben takes another deep breath. The words spill out from him like blood, painfully. “I dreamed…that I was in a cavern, or a canyon. Or maybe it was a tall building, or an elevator shaft. It was like that scene in _The Last Crusade_ where Indy takes the leap of faith and there’s the tiny bridge over the chasm, right?” He looks down at her, nestled in his armpit, and she looks up, smiling encouragingly, and nods. He keeps going. “Well I was out on the bridge, and then my dad was out on the bridge, and he and I got into an argument. And I had a sword, but it was like a laser sword, and I stabbed him with it. I stabbed my own father right through, and I pushed him off the bridge, and I watched him fall. That’s when Nonna woke me up because I was yelling.” He shakes his head.

“I’m not afraid, Ben. It’s a nightmare, it’s not reality. But…have you talked to anyone? About your feelings of how your father is kindof a shit dad?” 

He looks at her wide, open, empathetic eyes, and shakes his head, close-mouthed and almost ashamed. “He is very under par in every category but giving me money. I haven’t even seen him since my first year at the Academy, what, a decade ago? And then I think he was just trying to drum up business with the other dads for his new luxury yacht venture.”

_Yeah, I’d take impoverished judo sensei dad any day over what I’ve heard about your life_ , Rey thinks. But then she remembers something. “You know, I had a dream about a sword fight one time myself. A few months ago. I…I was fighting you,” she admits.

He looks down at her with interest. He appears in her dreams? Huh. She certainly appears in his. Maybe he needs to get out more, get a girlfriend, so he could stop the wet dreams about his unattainable housemate. Dating wouldn’t go well, though, with how messed up he is. What comes out of his mouth is, as always, not suave. “Who won the fight?”

Rey smirks. “I did. It was…brutal. I slashed you across the face, actually.” She reaches up and with a tentative finger draws a line from the bridge of his nose, to his cheek, down to his clavicle. He swallows hard. 

“That reminds me of something too, actually,” Ben says. “My dad touched my face in the dream, when I stabbed him. I don’t remember if he was trying to slap me or give me a benediction. It was pretty much right where you just touched me. Then he fell in that pit.” He looks away. This conversation is definitely too soul-baring for his comfort zone. But Rey doesn’t say anything. She just cuddles closer. 

Ben strokes her arm and shoulder and falls silent. Eventually, they are both asleep. Their joints will certainly regret the couch in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember Ian McKellan's tshirt? https://me.me/t/gandalf-and-magneto  
> Yeah, that kind of thing is what this crossover is all about, just for Natalie Portman. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Fury travels to another realm, and Ben thinks on his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Chapter 3 we start to get into some of the Marvel Cinematic Universe crossover material. For the most part, I'm restricting the MCU stuff to some material from _Thor_ and _Thor: The Dark World_. To fit my narrative, I have those events occurring much earlier than in the movies. So it's basically like "a dash of Marvel-ish Asgard and the nine realms flavor." I hope it's more fun/cool than confusing/wtf.

_Somerville, Massachusetts. October 18, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

“Agent Fury here.” Padmé hasn’t heard his voice in the decade since she retired, but it is unchanged. The timbre is sonorous, pleasant, but he also always manages to sound mildly irritated that he has to be talking to you.

“It’s Padmé,” she replies, wondering if she too sounds the same. Heck, the first time they spoke had probably been on a party line, and the advanced technology of multiple galaxies has carried their voices in the interim.

“Padmé! I thought you wanted to retire. You just miss me too much? ‘Cause if you are wondering what your boy is up to, I still can’t tell you. Nor your other boy neither.”

She sighs into the receiver. “I meant what I said, Nick. I really want a peaceful life on this Earth. I might not actually be able to help my daughter, or my grandson, but goddammit I am trying. Anyway…” she takes a deep breath before continuing. “I found something that belongs to SHIELD.”

“Like, you “accidentally” took home some of your research notebooks when you put your life as Dr. Jane Foster behind you to become a cute granny, and now you are regretting it?” he grills her. She can almost see his raised eyebrow from here. 

“No, Nick, it’s not something of mine. It’s some papers that were in the possession of a judo instructor in Everett, Massachusetts, who died a couple years ago. And before you ask, no, I haven’t read them. The person who gave it to me read enough to see my old name, and tracked me down.”

“Any chance you caught the name of the guy who had the papers?”

“I did. His name was Lorne Sant’ Ecca. Sounds like he showed up in the area around ‘99.”

Fury lets out a breath he barely knew he’d been holding. “Well, shit. Lor San Tekka. If he’s really dead, that sure ties up a loose end. Padmé?”

“Yes?” She’s attentive. Despite herself, she wishes he’d just share the truth of the mystery. In all her years with SHIELD, she was in deep enough to get those answers. It’s her own fault she’s on the outside now.

“I can’t tell you what this is all about. I’m sorry. But I do have to tell Him.” She closes her eyes and swallows, hard. “And if he shows up, since this was his fuck-up in the first place, he can of course tell you what he wants. I won’t come after you for it.”

“Thanks Nick.” Padmé hangs up the phone and turns to her armoire. Time to get ready to open the café for the day. Saturdays are one of Rey’s days off, but she has other wonderful young people to staff the coffee bar when Rey isn’t there. She’ll just check in on Ben before she goes. Because of his nightmare.

When she makes her way up to the third floor, he’s not there.

* * *

  
_Washington, DC. October 18, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Agent Nick Fury does not waste a moment after Padmé gets off the phone. He sets all his communications to vacation mode and changes clothes quickly in the bathroom attached to his office. Then he pulls out a heavy-duty silver briefcase and opens it. 

Inside, nestled in black foam, there’s a glowing, translucent blue cube. A wayfinder. A holocron, they used to call them before the fall of the Jedi. He takes it from its case reverently, closing the briefcase and placing it back under his desk. He settles in the lotus position on the yoga pillow that rests unobtrusively next to his imposing mahogany desk. 

Fury holds the glowing cube lightly in front of him and closes his eyes—well, his eye. His left eye is covered by a patch. Apparently, the role of Director of the SHIELD Agency carries certain risks, because his right arm is also a prosthetic, the hand covered as ever with a black leather glove. 

The prosthesis doesn’t interfere in any way with the dexterous way he handles the cube. You would almost say it floats above his fingertips while he meditates. 

But what you would say about it is immaterial, because a moment passes and Agent Nick Fury has disappeared entirely from this plane of existence. (Along with his glowing blue cube.)

* * *

  
_Bifrost Bridge. In the Reign of Odin Allfather._   
_Asgard_

In a flash of blue light, someone appears in Heimdall’s control room. Someone who most definitely did not travel to Asgard via the Bifrost. Heimdall is on alert before it even happens, wielding his massive sword in a defensive stance. 

When the figure fully materializes, the defensive stance melts away like water. The man who has just appeared with the aid of a relic of massive power is the Jedi Master Mace Windu (known to Midgard, whose Protector he’s been for some time, as Agent Nick Fury). He’s a badass on an intergalactic scale, but trustworthy through and through. 

In recent years, Heimdall has been seeing more and more of the old Jedi. And “old” probably explains why; each visit to Asgard is a life-saving respite from the process of aging that’s so precipitous on Midgard. 

“Long time no see,” Heimdall offers a fistbump.

“You know that joke was old the first time. You see everyone, all the time, brother,” Fury laughs in return. “I’m here to see Thor. He around?”

Heimdall nods solemnly. “You know where to find him.”

Fury strides up the bridge toward Asgard’s capital, Jedi robes flapping in the wind around him. It feels freeing to be back in his normal attire. While there’s something to be said for the clothing he wears on Earth these days — that black leather coat is basically bulletproof, both literally and in a fashion sense — he misses the rough cloth that embraced him from childhood until the fatal day when Anakin Skywalker sliced his arm off.

He shakes his head. He spent almost forty years (Midgard calendar) collaborating productively with Anakin Skywalker’s wife. It doesn’t make it any easier to think about the man. 

The wife, on the other hand — Jane Foster, a.k.a. Padmé Naberrie, is brilliant, positive, daring, and apparently a magnet for the universe’s most powerful stupid young men. (Or stupidest powerful young men.) Because he is now on his way to see her other lover, Thor Odinson, the man who had managed to bring a Force user to Earth only to lose track of him — entirely! — by dinnertime. And the gentleman in question — the only Force sensitive on Midgard known to Fury other than himself — had remained missing for fifteen years until his mortal death.

When Fury eventually reaches Thor’s suite of rooms, he senses the man is there, but it’s muted. The Jedi Master pushes open the ornately carved door and stalks through boldly to the balcony. As he expected, the younger man is there, leaning on the stone parapet, the breeze ruffling his long blond hair. 

“Do you ever leave this balcony, Thor? Every time I come to Asgard I find you out here,” Fury grumbles. 

“I do in fact,” Thor responds, looking up. His eyes crinkle at the edges as he looks his old friend up and down. “Maybe you should spend some time here relaxing and you wouldn’t look so old.” 

Fury raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side in a look of long-suffering appraisal. “Prove it, kid. Where have you gone this year?”

Now Thor’s teeth are showing amid his grin. “I checked in on the tenth realm.” 

Fury’s face shows his surprise. It’s traditional for the Asgardians to leave the tenth realm alone. Most of the realms require regular check-ins from a realm Protector or the Asgardian royals themselves, keeping the peace and moderating the forces of chaos. For some realms, it’s a tentative truce of opposite powers respecting one another’s strength. That’s what holds, tenuously, for Svartalfheim and Jotunheim for example, home of old, inhuman, dark powers. Grønnalfheim is populated by non-human species of great power, but is a peaceful realm that largely isolates itself. 

Ieldraan was the tenth realm, discovered by the Asgardians much later than the other eight subject realms. It was inhabited by both human and non-human populations, some of them as powerful with the Force as the Asgardians themselves. Those Jedi and Sith had studied and codified the Force more than most other realms (Grønnalfheim and Asgard itself excepted) — hence the honorific name, “the Elder One.” The Ieldraanians preferred isolation from the other realms; for thousands of years, they had merited it. The Jedi had usually ensured peace across their galaxy.

When Mace Windu was a boy, however, things had destabilized. Odin had intervened, negotiating in an attempt to prevent the rise of the Sith evil, but to no avail. The Republic had fallen, the Empire arisen, and Ieldraan had become yet another bickering and unstable realm like any other. 

Thor interrupted his musings. “Ieldraan needs us, _Jedi Master_. Everything is in an uproar because Sidious and Vader are dead.”

“The fuck??” Fury looks truly astonished now. “I stop sneaking home for what, two years, and the Rebels finally manage it? Damn, that’s good news.” He looks at Thor again. “It’s good news, right?”

“Well, it is certain that much evil is removed from the equation,” Thor allows, “But the situation is tenuous. It was Anakin and Padmé’s son who defeated them, but he’s scrambling to figure out what to do in the aftermath.” A shadow flits across the blond giant’s face at the mention of Padmé.

Fury is thoughtful. “I wish Kenobi were still around, but we’ll work with who we’ve got, right? I have some news for you of my own. It might be related to all this, actually.” Thor nods expectantly, so he continues. “Remember when you brought San Tekka to Midgard?” 

Thor winces. “You never let me forget. Come on, man! You _know_ why I got distracted that day.”

Fury fixes him with a penetrating stare. “I know why you got distracted. The second SHIELD scanners picked up your impromptu visit to Earth, we needed to deploy you to Columbine with the rest of the Avengers.”

Thor shakes his head. “It’s terrible that we were too late to stop what happened.”

Fury shrugs. “We do what we can. The Avengers are superhuman, not gods. Even if you Asgardians would like people to believe otherwise. But it’s not why you got distracted that has left me confused all these years,” he pauses. “What I want to know, Thor, is why you brought San Tekka to Midgard in the first place.”

Thor blows out a long breath and looks away, toward the horizon. Beyond his balcony the shining structures of Asgard’s capital soar toward the heavens. The architecture has always reminded him of the way the Jedi Temple in Coruscant used to look, when he was a boy. Back before Sidious destroyed so much in his bid for galactic power. 

“San Tekka had been safeguarding something for me. On Jakku, actually, near where young Skywalker tells me the remnants of the Empire are making their final stand. But things were getting too dangerous. It was about three years before the Battle of Yavin; you recall that time.”

Fury nods. “What he was safeguarding — was it a briefcase of papers by any chance?” 

Thor looks mildly confused. “Is that your news? San Tekka turned up with a briefcase of papers?”

Fury frowns, shaking his head. “San Tekka is dead; at least, I’ll check to confirm, but that’s the news from his neighbor. Apparently he’d been living incognito as a martial arts instructor named Lorne Sant’ Ecca. When he died, he left a briefcase for his neighbor, containing papers that were addressed to your Jane and to me. The neighbor just happened to have known Jane when she was a girl, and eventually tracked her down. She called me because since she retired, she doesn’t have the clearance to read the papers. I’m just wondering,” and here his glare gets more intense, “if you actually want her to have those papers any more. Are they something important to SHIELD, or is this something personal with you two?”

Thor looks surprised at the question, then thoughtful. “San Tekka died? I think…given the way things have played out, I’d actually rather the papers were destroyed than have Jane read them. Now that Sidious is dead, I don’t need to hide anything, but... If you read them, you’ll just know another of my secrets, and what’s another secret between friends? But I think, when I wrote it to Jane, I wanted it to hurt her.” He falls silent.

“You were still upset about her leaving you for Anakin? After all that time?” Fury shakes his head, almost unbelieving. Though Thor’s loyalty has led him to magnitudes of stupidity that are beyond imaginable for most humans, so perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised. “Weren’t you already back with Sif fifteen, twenty years ago?”

“Back when we were trying to ensure the succession? You think that made me forget Jane? You don’t even love the woman, but please tell me if you think it is possible to forget Jane Foster.” Thor doesn’t need to raise his voice for the Jedi Master to feel just how upset he is. But then Thor calms himself. It seems that even without many physical signs of aging, time has done _something_ for the impetuous young thunderer. “Mace, you’re going to think this is stupid, but I’d like to see her in person. I probably shouldn’t hope that now that Anakin’s really gone we could make something work, but I’d like to just talk to her again after all these years.”

“That, Thor,” Fury says, shaking his head, “is possibly the dumbest fucking thing I have ever heard you say, and you say a lot of dumb shit. You realize she is a grandmother? She is over seventy years old, she has a grandson for fuck’s sake who looks older than you. How do you think you are going to “make things work” with a little old lady?”

“It was always going to happen,” Thor shrugs. “Loki made that point very clear to me when she visited Asgard. It doesn’t mean our souls weren’t meant for each other.”

Fury frowns. “I sure as hell can’t stop you, but I still think it’s stupid. If she was going to give up on Anakin it would have been when he tried to kill her and became an evil cyborg, not when he died. How _did_ he die, anyway?” 

“Have a horn of mead with me, and I’ll tell you,” Thor smiles, clapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. October 18, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Ben wakes to the sound of the door shutting behind his grandmother. Rey isn’t on the couch anymore; she must have woken before him. He isn’t sad about it, he tells himself. He can’t hope it will happen again. Distant sounds of the shower answer the question of where she is. He stretches uncomfortably, rising to his feet and folding the throw blanket neatly over the back of the sofa. 

All of his muscles feel stiff. Falling asleep somewhere other than his bed is never smart, and the aftereffects of multiple servings of whisky weren’t really helping. Maybe a run will get him back to feeling human. He pours a half mug of coffee from the pot that Rey or Padmé brewed, then splashes some water into his face from the kitchen sink. Taking the coffee, he trudges upstairs to change into running clothes. 

It is cloudy, but warm for October. Ben runs west, weaving through the neighborhood near the Harvard astronomy department before heading for the river. It’s a little hillier that way than going straight down Mass Ave to breathe in the exhaust fumes. The scattered trees are shocks of color against the grey sky, and after a mile and a half or so he really is feeling more alive.

The sheer volume of people on the streets is very high for a Saturday morning, and surprises Ben until he gets to the river and realizes it is the Head of the Charles regatta weekend. In every direction, groups of fit college rowers are running in packs to warm up, while coaches gingerly maneuver the last few trailer loads of shells into place. Suddenly regretting his decision to run into Harvard Square, Ben turns away from the river and decides on a more boring route toward Watertown and by the reservoir. 

As more miles pass, more stress burns away, and more focus remains. It’s a very familiar calculus. By the time Ben makes it back to Davis Square, his shirt removed and clenched in his hand to wipe away the sweat that streams from his face, he’s narrowed the focus down to two key facts from the day before’s craziness.

First of all, he needs to take some action about his parents. Maybe if for once in his life he straight out tells them how screwed up they are instead of just internalizing it himself, it might have an impact.

Second, he needs to read the classified papers in Nonna Padmé’s briefcase. As much as Rey tries to downplay it, he can tell that she has some serious curiosity about her origins. In the circumstances, the documents in her adoptive father’s possession may hold a clue. It would be criminal if that clue gets stashed away in some secret SHIELD archive, never to be found.

Fortunately for his plan, Ben knows that Padmé always spends the entirety of Saturday at the cafe. She will be busier than ever with all the visitors in town for the rowing event. He has plenty of time to wait for Rey to be out or occupied, and then he can sneak into his grandmother’s room and photograph the documents. 

He shuts the front door behind him and notices Rey’s purse isn’t on the little table by the entryway where she usually leaves it. Maybe she’s out and now is his chance. A quick examination of the house confirms it, so he leaves his damp t-shirt in his room and grabs his old digital camera (advantage: not synced to the internet) and a pair of disposable vinyl gloves. No sense leaving any traces when SHIELD is involved. 

Nonna leaves her door open, of course, so he saunters into her bedroom, pulling on the second glove as he scans the room. The top of her heavy, ornately carved armoire probably seems like a good hiding place from her perspective, but Ben is the better part of a foot taller than his grandmother, so he can easily see the briefcase nestled up there. He takes it down gently, placing it on the duvet before clicking it open. You’d think SHIELD would bother to invest in locks, but whatever. No one was asking Ben Solo, information security consultant.

The only thing in the briefcase is a plain manila envelope. On the outside is boldly scrawled the address: “To Dr. Jane Foster or Agent Nick Fury, SHIELD. Washington, DC, USA, Midgard.” He wonders what the last word is all about; isn’t Midgard the name for Earth in Norse mythology? Maybe the documents come from some UFO-obsessed crank. Or the extra address information is a cypher key. The paper crinkles as he eases the contents out of the envelope. It’s a letter, on a couple of sheets of smooth paper that haven’t yellowed at all over the years they’ve been in the envelope. 

The weird thing about the letter is that he can’t read a word of it. 

Now, Ben has always been pretty good with languages. Human languages, computer languages — if it felt like a code, he’s always been able to crack it. The five years in special forces helped too. He’s fluent in Arabic and has some Urdu, recognizes the difference between traditional and simplified Chinese characters. He reads Cyrillic and enough Hebrew for the basics. Amharic, Korean, Quốc Ngữ — if foreign hostiles are writing in it, he can identify it and pass it to the right translators.

This script on the other hand is totally unfamiliar. It almost looks fake, like it was developed especially for computer vision, or for a code. His break-in is for naught. 

Or — or it’s a challenge. Ben takes a deep breath. Maybe he can write a program to identify the patterns and crack what message it’s hiding. He snaps a picture of the first page, then flips it over. 

Ben is just focusing the zoom on the final page when he hears a sound in the staircase. It must be Rey. How hadn’t he heard her come in? She must think nobody’s home; otherwise she always calls out a cheery greeting when she gets home. He moves fast as lightning to shuffle the papers back into their folder, the folder into the case. Then he locks it and gently plops it back on top of the armoire. The camera is shoved into the inadequate pocket of his skimpy running shorts and he’s stripping off the gloves to shove them back into his other pocket when Rey materializes on the landing outside Padmé’s door. 

Rey gasps, startled, as he lumbers out of his grandmother’s room. He clears his throat awkwardly. “I was, ah, just looking for the cats?” He doesn’t sound certain. 

Rey looks confused. “I thought I just saw them downstairs?” she says. Rey is having the hardest time dragging her eyes up from his bare chest, still shining with sweat from his run. A little shiver runs down her back. She doesn’t notice the nervous energy pulsing from him, too. 

Ben swallows hard, wondering how he can get past her and get rid of the camera without seeming rude. His eyes flick down, noticing the semi-transparent CVS bag in her hand. TAMPAX and MAGNUM are very visible through the thin plastic. Shit. It…hadn’t occurred to him that Rey might have a boyfriend, though obviously someone like her would.

Rey finally manages to focus on his face. “Anyway! I just got back from my errands! You can…have the shower.” And she turns and rushes into her room, sundress swirling, the door slamming behind her. Ben sighs with relief, running up to the third floor to ditch his camera in the desk drawer before trudging back down to the second floor for a shower. If he thinks about her while the warm water runs over his body, no one need be the wiser.

* * *

Late Saturday evening Rey returns from getting pizza with a couple of her engineering classmates. The lights are on in the third-floor windows, so Ben must be home, but he isn’t in the public rooms and she isn’t in the habit of going up and disturbing him. She brews a cup of mint tea and retires to her room. She pulls _The Prisoner of Zenda_ , an old favorite adventure novel, down from the shelf and curls up in bed. Before she even finishes her tea or reaches the third chapter, she’s fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ieldraan" is Old English for "the elder one." I know the other realms' names come from Old Norse, but I use Old English for the Star Wars galaxy's realm name for a reason.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor decides the time has come to be reunited with his Jane, but Finn, Rey, Ben, and a green smoothie may be standing in his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a bit of a content warning for the first section of this chapter. I'm not putting an archive warning for non-con on this work because there is no actual non-con. But Rey has a dream at the beginning of this chapter in which Ben touches her without explicit consent in a creepy situation, and she then fantasizes about this dream and extends it. If you want to avoid this material skip down to the first horizontal line scene divider.  
> Also, re: sexual material I'm never quite sure where the line between M and E is. I think at some point this fic is going to be clearly across that line, so I have upped the rating preemptively even though we're still in the M zone atm.

_Somerville, Massachusetts. October 19, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey wakes with a gasp to find her reading light still on and the clock reading 3:48 am. The book fell onto the floor at some point. She flicks off the light but realizes it’s going to take more than darkness for her to be able to fall back asleep. She doesn’t often have erotic dreams, but the one she just woke from was excruciatingly intense. 

She reaches a hand into her pajama bottoms and begins touching herself, but after a few minutes of stroking her clit and her nipples she isn’t getting anywhere. Rey sighs. She’s going to have to sink back into the fantasy of the dream if she wants to be able to come. It just feels somewhat wrong to think about her housemate while pleasuring herself, when he doesn’t seem to be into her that way. And he definitely doesn't seem to be the kind of man he acted like in the dream.

> _In her dream, she’d been in a dark room, lying back on what she assumed was a gynecological exam table, feet up in the stirrups. She’d had stress dreams about pap smears before, but she’d never felt so cold and terrified. She looked down and saw what explained those feelings: she was wearing nothing on the bottom half of her body, not even a paper gown. And her arms and legs were locked into place on the table. She wondered if she was really there for a gynecological exam, or if she had been committed to a creepy mental health institution. Her doctor’s office usually had more light than this._
> 
> _While she was still cold and frightened, the door opened silently and Ben Solo, of all people, walked into the room. It was embarrassing how quickly she became aroused when she saw that, just like earlier that day in real life, he was shirtless. Instead of running shorts he wore some kind of high-waisted black leather trousers, but he must have been exercising because his huge, muscular torso gleamed with the sheen of sweat. Rey licked her lips surreptitiously and wished she were wearing something on her bottom half. She felt so wet with arousal it was soon bound to become obvious even where he stood across the room, especially as she was forced to stay splayed out on the table._
> 
> _His eyes were fixed on her face, his gaze penetrating. He said nothing, just moved closer to her slowly. On his hands was a pair of blue disposable gloves, like a doctor would wear for an examination. Something clicked in Rey’s mind, even dreaming—Ben had been wearing disposable gloves earlier when he came out of his grandmother’s room claiming he was looking for the cat. That was odd. In the dream, though, Rey focused on trying to keep her heart rate under control as he loomed over her._
> 
> _Then Ben squatted down next to the examination table and whispered into her ear, his gorgeous locks tickling her cheek. “I can take whatever I want,” he said. She shivered, and he ran a gloved hand down her torso, which was covered in some sort of gauzy wrap vest Rey didn’t recognize. His fingers ghosted over her pubic hair, causing her to clench her inner muscles involuntarily. He gathered some of her abundant wetness on a finger before pushing in…when the dream ended._

Now Rey relives the dream in her head. Her confusion at being strapped to the table; Ben’s appearance; his uninvited assertiveness. As she thinks about his gloved finger entering her, she broaches her labia with two fingers of her own, stroking into her entrance. She’s plenty wet; it feels divine. She imagines the scene in the dream continuing.

> _Ben thrusts his finger in and out of her cunt slowly, patiently, adding a second vinyl-clad digit when he notices her hips bucking up to meet his strokes. With his other hand, he tugs roughly at the gauze wrappings, uncovering Rey’s breasts to the cold air of the room. His eyes still fixed on hers, he licks each nipple once, then blows on them._
> 
> _Now Ben’s head is buried on her chest, fervently kissing her nipples, his hair spreading across her. His left hand keeps fucking in and out of her relentlessly as she squirms under him, speechless. With his right, he undoes the fastenings of his leather trousers, freeing an enormous erection. He bites her nipple, then whispers again in her ear, “I can take whatever I want,” before lining his cock up and pushing inside her._

In her dark bedroom, Rey gasps silently, her fingers stilling within her, her nipples stinging from her pinching. The crests of her orgasm wash over her, the euphoria of her body warring with the uneasy feeling of her mind. It’s bad enough fantasizing about Ben in secret. Turning him into a creepy abductor who would fuck her locked to a table is a new low. Not to mention that she kindof hates herself for getting off to the idea of non-con in the first place. She sighs, straightens her clothes, and slips out to the bathroom in the hall to pee and wash her hands. 

Fortunately, she falls back to sleep quickly. The next day, she works at the cafe early, so she doesn’t need to worry about being unable to meet Ben’s gaze at the breakfast table.

* * *

  
_Allston, Massachusetts. October 19, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Thor Odinson materializes in a sudden storm near the Publick Theatre on the south side of the Charles River. It’s early morning, and geese are wandering everywhere. He’d asked Heimdall to help him arrive at a time and place that was near enough to Jane’s place—Padmé’s, he supposes, though the name feels like a dagger stabbing him in the gut—that he can get to her quickly on foot, without being populous enough to attract attention. 

He pulls the crumpled tourist map Nick gave him out of his large rucksack and studies it a moment before walking eastward on the footpath. It’s been fifteen years since he visited Midgard, so his navigation skills are rusty, but he’s sure he’ll be able to find his way to the cafe marked on the map before too long. 

When he reaches the first bridge, Thor is astonished by the flurry of people and boats. He’s not particularly paying attention to his surroundings, though, because his mind is still on the upcoming reunion with Jane. He hasn’t seen her in person since…well, here on Midgard it was 1960. It was a whirlwind romance, but he’d still never met a woman who was as brilliant, as captivating as Jane Foster. Someone who transcended her Earthly origin to such a profound degree was truly unique.

Thor continues his trek northward into Somerville until he reaches the spot Nick marked on the map. The cafe occupies a low storefront embellished with cheery flower boxes. Inside the large windows he can see a bright and airy aesthetic, and a number of customers. He pauses at the door, steeling himself, nerving himself to see her again after so long.

A bell chimes as he enters the cafe, and behind the counter a lovely young brunette looks up at him. For a moment, Thor’s heart stutters in confusion. Could it be? Her build, her hair, and something about the grit and wisdom of her eyes all remind him of Jane. But there’s something different about her brow line, her wide-set eyes. Add to that the fact that this girl is certainly younger than Jane was when he knew her, and it can’t be Jane. 

At the same time, something about her feels familiar on a soul-deep level. Maybe she’s Jane’s daughter, or granddaughter — though Nick said she has a grandson, not a granddaughter, right? He shakes his head, trying to blink away the feeling. It would be easier to assess on a Force-rich world like Asgard or Ieldraan. His most essential sense is muted into oblivion here on Midgard.

Finally, Thor calls his thoughts into order enough to approach the counter and order a mug of coffee from the beautiful girl. She smiles brilliantly. “You here for the regatta?” she asks, none too subtly noticing the way his t-shirt clings to his highly developed traps and lats. 

Thor grins. “No, I’m not a rower. I’m actually hoping to see the owner of this cafe. Jane? You might know her as Padmé?” 

The girl’s eyes widen. “You’re the second bloke in a week to come looking for her! Grab a table and I’ll bring your coffee over. She doesn’t usually come in on Sundays, sadly.”

Thor does as bid and settles by an elegant bonsai. In a moment the girl approaches with his coffee. “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Rey,” she answers. “I’ve worked for Padmé for two years and I definitely have never met this many of her friends. Now, how do you know her?”

“I…” he pauses, stroking his short beard while he searches for a way to speak truth without incurring the pure unadulterated wrath of Agent Nick Fury by spilling secrets to random baristas. “I used to know Padmé. When she was at her old job. I, uh, just happened to be in the area and thought it would be nice to catch up.” He lets out a slow breath. Mostly true. Mostly vague.

Rey smiles, but her stance evokes skepticism. “Well, that would be nice for her too, I’m sure. She’ll be in tomorrow, unless you need me to call her in now?”

Thor studies her face intently, draining his coffee in a few large gulps. “I do. Need you to call her in now. It’s rather urgent news.” 

Rey’s eyes widen, and she nods at her coworker Finn to take over the till before she steps out the back entrance and pulls out her cell phone to dial Padmé. “Padmé? I’ve got a man here claiming that he’s an old friend of yours and he has important news. Ring any bells?”

“After Léon last week?” Padmé’s incredulous laughter peals out over the phone. “What’s his name? What does he look like?”

Rey thinks back to the admittedly attractive new customer. “Well, he has long blond hair and a short beard. He’s about Ben’s height and has the body of a god,” she blushes even though no one in the shop can overhear her. “His accent isn’t American. I didn’t get his name, I’m sorry.”

“I have some ideas, at least at the rate my past is catching up to me,” Padmé sighs into the phone. “I’ll be there in under an hour.”

Rey hangs up, ducks back inside, and saunters over to the man’s table to give him the good news. She brings a mini cannoli on a plate to help him occupy his time; those things are Ben’s favorites, so she figures it might go over well with the new giant. 

“Sir?” she gets his attention. “Padmé says she’ll be over within the hour. Can I get you anything while you wait? This pastry is on the house.” She smiles. She can feel Finn’s eyes on her from where he’s crafting a London Fog for a customer—he’s going to give her a hard time for chatting up a hot visitor. It’s inevitable. 

She’s right, of course; Finn greets her return behind the coffee bar with a wink and his thousand-megawatt smile, nudging her hips as he stands beside her ringing up a group of college girls in matching Boston University windbreakers. “You know, we have some extra Café Nabú t-shirts in extra-large,” he whispers as she starts pulling shots. 

Rey looks at him, not processing what he means. She should give Padmé’s friend a free t-shirt? “And?” she asks.

“You’ll see,” Finn says conspiratorially. He loads up a tray with the orders for the college girls, who have taken the high barstools in the window behind the table where the blond guy is thumbing distractedly through a local events paper. Apparently, the girls all got iced lattes or smoothies. 

Tragically, as Finn walks past the blond guy’s table, he loses his balance for a moment. A green smoothie lurches off the tray directly into Padmé’s friend’s chest. He leaps up in surprise, holding the cold, wet shirt away from his body. Finn is apologizing to everyone a mile a minute, while trying to hand out the remaining drinks to the girls who ordered them.

“Rey, why don’t you help this guy while I remake that smoothie?” Finn suggests. Rey is suddenly struck with the suspicion that Finn has probably never tripped and spilled a drink on anyone in his decade or so of restaurant industry side jobs. Blushing, she beckons Padmé’s friend to come behind the coffee bar with her, and holds out a towel.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” she gushes. “What’s your name, by the way? I think we have some extra cafe t-shirts, so you don’t have to wear a big green splat when you see your old friend again,” she prattles on as she rifles through the shelves looking for the shirts Finn mentioned.

“Not to worry,” he chuckles, stripping the shirt off over his head and toweling off the remaining dampness. Rey turns back around with a dark grey t-shirt in her hands and swallows hard when she sees exactly how cut this guy is. He’s tanned golden, with pronounced abs and enormously bulky arms. He’s also grinning like a doofus at the gaggle of smoothie-wielding college girls who are ogling him from the other side of the cafe.

Just at that moment, the door chimes again and who walks in but Ben Solo. Rey remembers that he often stops by of a Sunday afternoon. He looks around, taking in the sight of her standing close to the big blond guy whose shirtlessness is probably putting the cafe in violation of the health code. Something darkens in his expression, and his wave is more strained and peremptory than usual. 

“Rey,” he says as she walks back to the register to take his order. “Who’s the new barista?” He’s trying to play it cool. It’s definitely crossing Ben’s mind that this is who she was buying the Magnums for. It’s definitely not making him happy. He doesn’t want to examine the reasons for this.

“He’s another friend of your grandmother’s, apparently,” she replies, smiling at him awkwardly. She’s just trying not to think of her dream and her frantic self-pleasuring session. She turns to the man behind her who has reluctantly broken eye contact with the rower girls to pull the t-shirt on. “What did you say your name was?”

“Thor,” the man states. “Thor Odinson. You’re Jane’s grandson?” he addresses Ben, looking him up and down appraisingly.

Ben raises an eyebrow at the idea of his grandmother being friends with a built blond twenty-something, but the information certainly warms his heart. If the guy isn’t Rey’s friend, so much the better. “That’s right. Ben Solo.” He extends a hand, but doesn’t bother to smile. Thor shakes his hand, and it’s one of those greetings where both men are clearly trying to prove something. Neither one, apparently, usually has to confront someone his height and weight. Rey picks up on the alpha posturing and shoos Thor out to his table. “Your coffee will be right out, sir.”

Ben stays leaning by the register. “I don’t know where Padmé gets these dudes,” he comments, shaking his head. 

Rey smiles. “I know. Am I the first person under two meters she’s ever spoken to?”

That cracks a smile on Ben. “You going to be home for dinner tonight? My turn to cook,” he offers.

She smiles. “Probably? Especially if Padmé kicks everyone out so she can talk with this guy too like she did with Léon. Oh, by the way. I had a question for you,” she asks as she hands him his double espresso, trying to sound nonchalant. “Why were you wearing medical gloves when you were in Padmé’s room yesterday looking for the cats?”

Ben has just started sipping the coffee when she asks, and he sputters. “Um. I. Had been cleaning something?”

Rey looks at him. “I thought you were running?” 

God, he’s terrible at lying. “Ok, yeah, I don’t recall really.” His eyes flicker down, then back up to meet hers. “Look, I’ll be happy to explain over dinner tonight if it’s just you and me.”

There’s something so warm, almost pleading, in his eyes as he says it that Rey is inclined to overlook whatever is shady about his failed attempt at lying. “I’ll look forward to it.” She smiles and goes to take Thor his drink. Ben decides that this is not a day he wants to hang around the cafe. If Rey wants this Thor guy, she won’t come home for dinner. He’ll just live his life.

* * *

Barely twenty minutes after Ben leaves, Padmé bursts in through the back door of the cafe. Her eyes zero in on Thor immediately. He stands from the table and strides over to her, crushing her into a bruising embrace. 

It’s been fifteen of Midgard’s years since Thor visited Earth, but it’s been more than fifty since he saw or embraced the only woman he ever truly loved. Closing his eyes, drinking in her smell, it activates a feeling of comfort and _home_ that he’s never experienced with anyone else.

Padmé finds herself clasped to a broad chest that is startlingly familiar. Startling because every other person she’s ever known has grown, changed, aged. Maybe not all at the same rate — looking at you, Nick Fury — but at some rate. And this gorgeous man who’s clasping her to him like his life depends on it looks almost exactly the same as he did when they parted ways in 1960. 

Padmé thinks back to her time with Thor. That first intense night when they connected on the roof of the observatory she and Selvig operated for SHIELD in Arizona…

> _Padmé looked at the dancing light of the fire as Thor pulled the sleeping bag up around her shoulders. She was still struggling to understand who he was and where he came from. But as they discussed the convergence of the realms, he spoke words that would stick with her for the rest of her life._
> 
> _“Jane, listen to me. You must not give up. You must finish what you started. Because you’re right. Your ancestors called it magic and you call it science. Well, I come from a place where they’re one and the same thing.”_
> 
> _She didn’t really understand it then, as their conversation about astrophysics and the convergence of realms evolved into a passionate convergence of bodies. Thor was her first lover, a gentler and more devoted lover than his headstrong temperament might otherwise suggest._
> 
> _But she would understand the Force, that overlap between magic and science that Thor spoke of, only a year later, after Nick Fury brought her to Ieldraan. The Jedi brought her to the tenth realm, but it was the Force that thrust her into the path of an extraordinary young man named Anakin Skywalker. She understands it now. The drive to discover, to understand, to rescue more of the universe from the darkness of chaos._
> 
> _For some, like Anakin, bringing order to chaos could lead to a descent into darkness. For Padmé, that never made sense. Like Thor, she envisioned a world where self-sacrifice, love of one’s fellow beings, and careful study brought resolution to even the most intractable problems of sorrow, plague, and evil._

She has a lot more appreciation, now, for Thor’s apparent naiveté, his unfailing, simple devotion. But it doesn’t change the fact that their relationship had disintegrated along with the Bifrost. And that by the time that bridge was rebuilt, what she had built with fragile, flawed Anakin was so much more essential.

After a long, long minute, Padmé breaks from the hug and looks up into Thor’s face. There’s no indication that he sees and is dismayed by the passing of years on hers; his eyes water with unshed tears but there’s a bright light of joy in his smile and in his eyes as he looks on the woman he loves. 

“Thor,” Padmé manages to breathe out, “Do remember we’re in my cafe. Now, Rey said you had some news for me that was so important it couldn’t even wait for closing time. What is it?”

He clears his throat a moment, then lifts the hefty rucksack from the floor by his chair. “Come outside with me,” he says. Padmé nods to Rey and Finn and leads Thor out the back door to stand near her Volvo. Only then she notices he’s wearing one of the Café Nabú t-shirts she ordered for her staff. She pokes him in the chest. “Where’d you get the lovely shirt?” she asks, teasingly.

“One of your employees spilled a smoothie on me,” he shrugs. “Rey offered me a new shirt, seemed like a good deal.”

“Ah, Rey. She’s wonderful,” Padmé muses. “Now, what did you need to tell me?”

Thor turns to face her, a look of roiling concern and angst on his face. “You’re probably going to shoot the messenger, and you may be justified, because you can guess that I don’t feel sad about this at all.” He takes a deep breath. Then, reaching into the rucksack, he pulls out a twisted, melted black object, offering it to her. “Padmé, you are officially a widow. All that was left of Anakin is dead.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé learns how Anakin died. Ben is not a fan of Thor.

_Somerville, Massachusetts. October 19, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

The tears are welling in Padmé’s eyes even as she looks up to meet Thor’s, and she reaches out to take the distorted relic that is Darth Vader’s helmet. “Is this what it takes to get you to finally visit me? A chance to gloat?” she bites out, surprised at her own bitterness.

Thor takes it for what it is, which is unspeakable grief. “Jane—Padmé, sorry—I envied Anakin bitterly. I was so mad at myself for leaving you alone for long enough that you met someone else. But then, I understood your obligations and I have come to understand mine. It was very important for my duty to Odin to remain in Asgard for most of these years. Jane, please, I am not here to gloat. I am hopeful, and I want to share that with you. Hopeful that the end of Sidious and Vader means a new beginning.”

As usual, Thor is a bit much. But Padmé has caught the essential elements. She ignores the personal implications for the moment, determined to grasp as much privileged intelligence as possible from a source Nick Fury can’t argue with. She never stopped yearning for information about Ieldraan, even if she hadn’t been able to visit the realm since she fled home in 1966. “Thor, you’re saying not only Anakin, but Palpatine is also dead?” Now her eyes too have a flicker of light, of hope. 

He nods. “Yes, Padmé. I think if I’m going to tell you the whole story, you should probably be sitting down.”

She hums absently. “Right. I can’t kick everyone out of the cafe today, but I think Rey and Finn can handle it on their own until Sabine comes in to help with closing. Give me a moment and we can go somewhere else. I’m afraid my grandson will probably be at my house.”

“I met him a short while ago in the cafe. I’m not sure if this is a story he should hear.”

Padmé looks at him searingly. “You’re probably right, if for no other reason than that Nick would kill us both. And if we sit in the garden…no, I think we should pay a visit to a park.”

After she hands over the cafe to her staff, Padmé seats herself behind the wheel of her Volvo and motions Thor to get in. “I always feel ridiculous driving when I both live and work in Somerville,” she admits, carefully checking her blind spot before pulling out of the parking spot. “But at my age, carrying a cash box around on foot seems to be asking for trouble.”

An alarm starts beeping annoyingly. Padmé looks over at him sharply. “Seatbelt?” Thor looks confused until she points above his right shoulder. It takes him a moment to figure it out, looking at her own for a reference. He supposes that when he was briefly on Earth in 1999 he didn’t ride in any private civilian vehicles; he doesn’t remember them having safety belts in 1960.

Thor looks at Padmé thoughtfully. She does seem a bit smaller or dimmer with age, imbued with less vivacity and righteous fury than when they’d met more than half an Earth century ago. Thor reckons that neither of them would be quite as likely to pull a weapon to resist a mugger now as they had been in 1960. Back then, he’d felt much older and wiser than Jane; he’d visited almost all the ten realms extensively and had been walking the worlds since a good 24 Earth years before Jane was born. In outward appearance, he and she had seemed about the same age.

Since then, though, Thor has spent most of his time on Asgard, effectively avoiding the normal processes of aging, and she has spent most of her time on Earth. She’s raised a child and a grandchild, worked a full career, watched friends and friendships grow and die. He’s missed out on some of these experiences, though not as many as his physical appearance would suggest. He’s a wise (maybe?) old man in the body of a 30-year-old.

Padmé has apparently gotten them to their destination while he was contemplating. She maneuvers carefully into a parallel parking space on one of Somerville’s broad boulevards, then gestures for him to follow her. Thor complies, and they make their way across the pedestrian crossing of a weird roundabout to reach a tiny park. It’s basically a hill with a little tower fort on top. 

“Where are we?” Thor asks, puzzled. He has to assume Padmé doesn’t live in a tower on top of a hill in a public park, so this must be where she thought they could talk. 

“Powder House. No one comes here, so I figured that however crazy sounding the tale is you’re about to tell me, we wouldn’t really disturb anyone.” He reaches out to grab her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation she squeezes it back. Then she pulls him along behind her until they reach a bench on the top of the hill. It’s actually a pretty peaceful place to sit and talk despite being located next to a traffic circle. The last blazes of fall color cling to the mature shade trees.

“You’re right that it would sound crazy to the people of Midgard,” Thor says, smiling. “Though I have to say the bravery of Earth’s people, who strive and dare with no access whatsoever to the power of the Force—that is what always seems most crazy to me.”

Padmé smiles wistfully. “Please tell me the news from Ieldraan now. What happened to Anakin and Palpatine?”

Thor clasps her hand again, now in both of his, massaging the back of her hand gently with his thumbs. It had been too long since he had been able to touch her. “I had the story from the hero himself. A young Jedi knight named Luke Skywalker — your son, Padmé.”

She gasps and covers her mouth with her free hand. “He’s alive? And a Jedi? Oh, Thor! I thought…but you say that he was the hero. Does that mean he, he…” she trails off in horror, not even able to articulate the words.

“No, dearest,” Thor avers, pulling her closer to him on the bench. “He did not kill his own father.” She heaves a sigh of relief before he continues. “I think to give the full picture of what I understand happened, I’m going to have to go back a few years.”

“Please,” Padmé agrees. “We have until dusk, then they close the park.”

Thor clears his throat and begins the story.

> _“When Luke was about 19 or 20 years old — so in Midgard years, that’s about a decade ago, but it’s five or six years ago on Ieldraan — Sidious was finally nearing his goal of having a planet-killing weapon. It was called the Death Star._
> 
> _“The Rebellion focused all its efforts on destroying it, and your old friend Bail Organa had actually succeeded in getting hold of some tactical plans when he was captured by Vader. The Imperials had the bright idea to test their weapon by destroying Bail’s homeworld._
> 
> _“Now, as it happened, Luke and Obi-Wan were just then making their journey to Alderaan, where Mace had stored the other wayfinder holocron when you left. The one that was supposed to allow Luke to visit you when he came of age. Obviously, with Alderaan blown to bits, that was impossible, and your son and the old man managed to get captured too. Long story short, Luke and Bail and some other rebels escaped, the Death Star got destroyed, but Vader killed Obi-Wan in the process._
> 
> _“Sheev Palpatine, as you know, has many abilities, but creativity is not one of them, so after his Death Star was vaporized he immediately set everyone to work building a new one. Luke sought out more secret hidden Jedi to learn from, and learned that Vader was his father. He ended up surrendering himself to Vader in the hope of turning him back to the Light._
> 
> _“In the final confrontation, Luke was forced to fight his father, but eventually threw down his saber. Sidious tried to punish this refusal with Force lightning, but eventually Vader couldn’t tolerate Sidious killing his son, so he threw him into a pit. He got electrocuted by Sidious in the process and didn’t survive long. Luke escaped and gave Anakin a proper funeral after the other rebels blew up the second Death Star._
> 
> _“The years since have been a sort of mopping-up mission, with various bits and pieces of the Imperial fleet drifting around and obstructing the rebels’ efforts to form a new galactic republic.”_

Thor finishes his tale. Padmé sits in silence for a moment, trying to compose herself from the waves of emotion that are drowning her. On the one hand, it’s an enormous relief to know her son is alive. It was part of the conditions of her retirement from SHIELD that she would no longer be privy to updates about Ieldraan, so she hasn’t heard anything about Luke in ten years. As far as she knew he was still languishing on Owen and Beru Lars’ moisture farm on Tatooine. 

The Lars farm had always struck Padmé as an incredibly stupid place to hide Anakin’s son from him, and induced great anxiety whenever she thought about it, until one day when her grandson was in middle school and brought home the detective stories of Edgar Allan Poe from the library. She happened to pick it up and read “The Purloined Letter.” She had wished she had some way to have the tale transcribed into Aurebesh and sent to Obi-Wan.

But thinking about Obi-Wan’s questionable choices in keeping her son safe is just a way to avoid thinking about the fact that Obi-Wan is now dead. Dead at the hands of his own padawan, her husband, who at one point she could have sworn loved Obi-Wan more deeply than he loved her. 

And thinking about the fact that Obi-Wan is dead is in its turn just an avoidance of the fact that Anakin is now dead too. If she understands correctly, his final act was a noble one: throwing his evil tormentor into a pit to save his estranged son. Though that raises some concerns for Padmé.

“Thor?” she asks, finally able to breathe evenly enough to eke out a word without collapsing into tears. “You said that Anakin threw Palpatine into a pit. You and I know that Anakin threw Mace Windu off a Coruscant skyscraper, but he survived well enough that he got a new lease on life here on Earth and is still running SHIELD to this day. So I may be overly paranoid, but can we be certain that the Sith are really dead?”

Thor narrows his eyes at her perceptiveness. Jane Foster really was one of the brightest intellects in any of the realms. If only she had come to be his queen, maybe he wouldn’t have fallen for so many of Loki’s schemes over the years. But no; as a non-Force-sensitive, Jane would never have been comfortable in Asgard feeling “less than.” Maybe they could have grown old together on Midgard; but no, Odin would never have allowed his heir to fritter away his life energy like that. He’s been over all this before. It didn’t happen. But if he plays his cards just right, there might be something to salvage here.

“Your observation is well taken,” he allows. “It is confirmed that Vader is dead; Luke performed his funeral. He said that Anakin appeared to him as a Force Ghost along with other Jedi, but that is a phenomenon I have yet to witness myself. I don’t know if Nick can even explain it to you, though the real question is probably not if he _can_ , but if he is _willing_ to. Sidious is another question.” Thor sighs. “Luke did mention offhand that he had his concerns that the Emperor could have survived. Something about not feeling sufficient dissipation of Force energy that he would expect from the death of one with so much power. I think his explanation was that he’d never witnessed a Sith death so he didn’t know how it would feel?”

“Is he going to do anything about it, to see if Palpatine can be confirmed dead? And…” she hesitates, “can we find a way for him to visit me despite the destruction of the wayfinder? Nick should allow it, since it was agreed when I was persuaded to come here with only Leia. I…I want so much to look on the face of my son.” And here she can control it no longer, but hunches over, face in her hands, wracked with quiet sobbing. 

Thor embraces her gently, hugging her shoulders to his broad chest while he strokes her salt-and-pepper hair with his other hand. “Dear Jane,” he murmurs. “Dear, dear Jane. We shall talk to Nick. And if he is pig-headed about it, I will break some rules about the Bifrost and ensure you get to see your son. Someday.”

He doesn’t answer her question about what Luke was doing to determine if the Emperor was really dead. She doesn’t realize it until days later.

* * *

The sun sets early in October in Massachusetts, and it’s darkening by the time Rey and Ben sit down to dinner. Padmé and Thor haven’t shown up at the house, but Ben experienced some mixture of relief and elation when Rey did return. He’s made chicken thighs stuffed with bacon and kale, because he likes to trick Rey into eating more veggies. He has the EAT MORE KALE t-shirt and everything. Rey is a pretty good cook, all things considered, but she has a tendency to treat vegetables as a chore or an afterthought.

Ben picks up the bottle of Primitivo, only to discover he’s managed to drink half of it already while cooking. He sighs. Time to face the music.

Rey doesn’t let him wait long after they begin eating before she asks about the gloves. “Well? What exactly were you up to in your grandmother’s room?” She fixes him with a serious look, sipping her glass of red. 

No matter how much he’s thought about it, he hasn’t figured out a way to escape this conversation without telling the truth. So he does. “I decided I needed to read the documents in that briefcase Padmé got from Léon,” he admits. “I was photographing them when you got home.”

“But didn’t Padmé say we would get in big trouble with SHIELD if we read the documents without clearance?” Rey objects.

Ben looks at her searchingly. “I may not be able to lie to you, Rey, but keeping my cool and keeping my mouth shut come pretty easily when I’m up against that kind of people. Feels like my old career. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t leave any traces of my visit for them to find—as long as you can keep your mouth shut, too.”

Rey nods. “Obviously. But why was it so important to you to disregard your grandmother and read the documents?”

Ben looks down at his plate. He can’t meet her eyes as he answers. “Rey, I…I know you wish you had more answers about where you came from. I was hoping that, if there was any chance that info was in the briefcase your father had, you could have that info instead of it just getting locked up in a classified filing cabinet at SHIELD headquarters.”

Rey looks at him appraisingly. “I didn’t know you cared,” she murmurs almost inaudibly. Then she asks, louder, “Well, did the documents say anything about me?”

Ben shakes his head and shrugs. “It’s not written in any language I’ve ever seen. I think it’s a special code or cipher, so I’m going to have to develop a program to try and crack it.”

Rey nods resignedly. “Don’t feel bad if you can’t figure it out. Padmé was right that chances are it has nothing to do with me.” They exchange lopsided smile-frowns and return to their food. 

Rey calls it a night early to prepare for her Monday classes. Ben watches her ass as she goes up the stairs, then lingers over the final glass of wine. The conversation could have gone much worse. 

* * *

Padmé has been living as a widow since 1966, when she and Mace Windu arrived back on Earth from Ieldraan with a newborn infant girl. Despite knowing full well that her husband was not, technically, dead, he definitely didn’t exist on Earth, in its galaxy, or even in its realm. He believed she was dead, and she felt that pretending he was dead was probably a more positive approach to her recollections of their love than thinking about the evil he was doing as a Sith Lord.

Living as a widow has not prepared her for actually becoming a widow. Her emotions are all over the map. You might say they’re all over the galaxy, or the ten realms even. Thor looks at her with a note of compassion as she plasters a fake smile on beneath her teary eyes and insists on showing him around. First it was dinner at Tu Y Yo, the deliciously nuanced Mexican restaurant next to where she had parked the car. But after she drives them back to Davis, she insists on taking him to hear live music in the Burren and then retiring to a dark corner of the basement at Redbones. 

She sips on Belgian ales that are far stronger than her septuagenarian frame can handle while Thor tries to slow himself to a normal human pace of ordering. (If he drank his fill, the bar would be out of drink.) Eventually even he can see that she needs to go home. That she’s just trying to avoid thinking about Anakin, about closure, about finality. Even trying to switch her thoughts to the good news that her son is alive and an acclaimed hero would backfire because of how closely involved Luke was with Anakin’s demise. 

When they make their way back to the house, Padmé is leaning heavily on Thor and not quite walking straight. Cutting loose has never been her modus operandi. There’s always been too much riding on her alertness, her responsibility. She fumbles the key and Thor takes it, opening the porch and the front door, ensuring the cats don’t escape, locking everything up carefully. He supports her up the stairs to her room and he crushes her to him in another embrace when she finally allows the tears to fall.

* * *

_Somerville, Massachusetts. October 20, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Ben wakes up on Monday morning feeling refreshed. He takes his usual early morning run in cooler temperatures, glad that the streets are free from excess rowers. Back at Padmé’s house, he eats a banana and snags the shower. The two women start Mondays later than him; Padmé uses her status as an elder and the owner to ensure she never has to open the cafe, while Rey begins her week with a mid-morning engineering class. 

He wraps a towel around his waist and opens the door to the bathroom only to be confronted with a very unexpected sight. Across the landing, the door to his grandmother’s room opens and Thor steps out, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. The blond man catches his eye, smiles, and points to the bathroom with an inquiring look. Startled out of all composure, Ben stutters out “be my guest,” and hastens upstairs.

It’s all he can do to put on a t-shirt and his own boxer briefs before he starts pacing. He understands that awkwardness is a possibility in his living situation. When Rey moved in, it was obvious that at some point, she would probably be bringing some guy into the house he shared with his grandmother. He can respect that; he’d like to have a girlfriend to bring home at some point, but at the moment staying with whatever family he has (Nonna) feels more important than the independence of living alone. 

What he didn’t expect was needing to deal with _his grandmother_ bringing some guy into the house. Some guy who was _his age_. This is fucked up on a level he can’t even fathom. After a few minutes he pulls on some basketball shorts and goes back downstairs to tap gently at Rey’s door. She opens, disheveled, wrapping a bathrobe around herself. He beckons her to follow him upstairs.

Rey rarely comes up into his rooms on the third floor. When she does, it’s usually on some errand from his grandmother. Inviting her up into his space feels nice. Most of the third floor is set up as a loft workspace, and he indicates the futon-style couch for her to sit. 

“I’m freaking out,” he says finally.

“I can tell,” Rey responds. “What’s going on? Is it about your mom?”

He shakes his head. “So, I got out of the shower and next thing I know I saw that Thor guy coming out of Padmé’s room. In boxers.”

Rey’s eyebrows shoot skyward. “Da-yum, granny! What do you think is the deal there?”

“I have no fucking clue,” he admits, “obviously. But I feel like as an adult this is something I should be able to handle. Like, if she were a dude in his seventies, younger women would be expected?”

“This is a bit more than “younger,” though,” Rey acknowledges. “This is well into the realm of cradle-robber. You’re entirely reasonable to feel the way you do.” She pats the futon next to her and he sits down with a sigh. Rey thinks for a minute. “Your parents have been separated for eons, right? What do you do when they’re dating? How do you feel about that?”

He thinks for a minute, trying to digest what she’s saying. That he has handled this issue in the past, repeatedly, is true. Han especially has a tendency to show up in every tabloid photo with a new girl on his arm, and lately they’ve been younger than Ben. But for whatever reason Padmé seems like a separate case.

“I guess I just thought of Nonna Padmé as this sexless benevolent angel creature. A spirit of science, or something. And fully dedicated to me in a way my parents have never been? So I’m probably jealous on lots of levels?” He sighs. “But I should just pay my therapist to talk about this instead of laying it on you.”

Rey smiles gently and pats his arm. “It’s not a problem. The idea of Padmé with your blond vanilla doppelgänger is freaky enough to me and she’s not even my grandma.”

He interjects. “My blond what??”

Rey is blushing. “Well, you’re both giants, but it’s like there’s normal dark flavor Ben Solo and then the light version? I… never mind. I should get ready for class,” and she hops up from the futon. She gives a little wave before skipping lightly down the stairs and disappearing from his day. 

He’s really not inclined to risk running into Padmé and Thor together, but at some point coffee will become a necessity. He shakes his head. Did she really call him “dark flavor Ben Solo” and suggest that he was as built as the Thor dude? Food for thought.

For now, if he’s going to hide out in his room, there is one useful thing he can do. He can get to work on operation Cut the Bullshit With His Parents. 

His dad is probably in London, meaning he’s awake. So that’s the first number Ben dials. Unsurprisingly, he reaches an assistant who takes a message. If anything comes of that, well, he’ll believe it when he sees it. 

His mom was always an early riser, so he doesn’t feel that bad about calling the posh rehab center and asking for her. It’s not until the receptionist forwards the call and Leia actually answers that he realizes he didn’t really think this through. At all.

“Hi mom,” he says tentatively. “It’s me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End notes: If you haven’t read [The Purloined Letter](https://poestories.com/read/purloined), do it now, not because it’s essential to this fic (it isn’t) but because it’s a good story and we’re all stuck indoors being suspicious of the mail anyway.  
> [INTPSlytherin_reylove97's Across Alternate Universes]() deserves a shoutout as a fic that got me thinking about the Star Wars universe and our universe existing at the same time. I don't know when they will get around to finishing it but the parts that exist so far are cool!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben confronts Leia and keeps snooping. Padmé tries to let Thor down easy.

__

_Somerville, Massachusetts. October 20, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

“Mom?” Ben waits long enough for a reply that he starts to wonder if he lost the connection. But eventually he hears his mother’s scratchy alto.

“Ben Solo. Now, what possessed you to call your mother today? I don’t have long or I’ll be late for beachfront rehab yoga.” There’s a pause. “You don’t happen to be calling because you’re getting me out of here, do you?”

“No, Mom, I’m not getting you out of there until some medical professional approves. Hopefully one who is primarily motivated by the goal of healing people rather than the goal of making lots of money from you or Dad,” Ben says drily, shaking his head. Of course she’s trying to get out. Rehab has to be boring as fuck when you are used to being the life of the party. Leia can’t exercise her formidable charisma on therapists and counselors.

“You never visit me, Ben,” she complains. “When I’m lonely, I fall back into my bad habits.” This is a very familiar refrain.

“Whenever I _do_ visit you, you decide to celebrate it by inviting your dealer’s five closest friends, named Dieter and Coochie or whatever, to come over and get high with you! It doesn’t work for me, Mom,” he cries out. “If you insist on destroying yourself, you’re gonna fucking do it as far away from me as possible. You need to stop blaming me, and I need to stop blaming myself for your stupid fuckups. If there’s a way Nonna and I can help you get your life put together, say the word and we will be there.”

There’s silence again. “Well, Ben, I’m not sure why you felt the need to call me after all this time to tell me that, but it is what it is.” She doesn’t want to discuss it. Maybe she’ll at least give it some thought later. He’s said what he has to say. After a pause she clears her throat. “Now, I think the best thing you could do for me before yoga this morning is tell me a good story to tell my fellow inmates in this hellhole. Have any bad online dating stories for me?”

Chroma Wellness is undoubtedly not a hellhole — with a monthly fee that would cover a Central Park penthouse several times over, views of the shore in Malibu, and only the most exclusive clientele, it’s basically a vacation-slash-retreat but with detoxification from substance abuse as its _raison d’être_. Ben can tell she’s just fishing for information on his life, like usual. But he thinks for a moment anyway, before realizing that the most obvious answer is undoubtedly the best one right now.

“Well, Mom, you’re not going to believe me when I tell you this, but Nonna Padmé has had a very active social life lately. She had a dude named Thor sleeping over last night.”

There’s a coughing noise over the line before Leia responds. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Wait, let me guess what he’s like: high cheekbones, Danish expat, tweed suit, expensive socks, maybe a pipe, retired stockbroker, now spends his time reading Goethe and Hölderlin?”

Ben laughs out loud at the image. That would be nice, but Padmé is apparently not one to play to expectations. “Nope,” he responds, popping the “p.” “Thor looks to be about my age, with long blond hair and a scruffy beard. Weird accent, like maybe South African or something? And he wanders around without a shirt way too much. Dude is jacked.”

“Are you sure he’s there with Padmé and not with that nice girl she has renting that room from her?” Leia queries. 

“Absolutely sure whose room I saw him coming out of in boxers this morning, Mom,” Ben sighs. 

Leia laughs again. “Well, you have cheered up my day. And given me hope that I can snag a nice cabana boy a couple decades from now.”

“Please, Mom,” Ben moans. “Just don’t tell me about it.” _And do keep yourself alive that long_ , he adds mentally.

* * *

The morning drags on. Ben spends a few hours scanning a client’s codebase for vulnerabilities and writing up his report. When he finally ventures down for coffee the house is blessedly deserted. He doesn’t know where Thor is, if he’s gone to the cafe with Padmé or not, but unfortunately it doesn’t appear that the man is gone permanently, because his giant backpack is clearly visible propped up against the armoire in Padmé’s bedroom. 

Something niggles in the back of Ben’s mind and he feels almost compelled to go snooping in his grandmother’s room again. He dodges up to his room for gloves before stepping lightly into her space. Pretty quickly, it’s clear that the briefcase has been moved from its spot on top of the armoire. Ben scans the room thoroughly, eventually finding the silver case under the bed.

When he pulls it out and opens it, it’s empty.

A number of different scenarios cross Ben’s mind. Is it possible that Thor is affiliated with SHIELD and Padmé has given him the papers? Or is he an enemy agent who has stolen them? The next step is obvious: Ben has to search the stranger’s bag. Given the unknowns around who Thor is, he has to be very careful while doing so.

Replacing the silver briefcase in its new spot under his grandmother’s bed, he hefts the large rucksack from the floor onto the bed. It’s heavier than it looks. When he opens the top flap and uncinches the fastening, the first thing that confronts him is a bizarre relic. He lifts it out of the sack with gloved hands. 

It’s black, warped, made of some unfamiliar material that, if he had to guess, was developed for advanced ballistic gear. The thing is vaguely triangular in shape and seems to have eyes and a muzzle. It might be a mask, but it’s a mask that someone has tried to destroy. He gets a strange feeling holding it and looking into its empty eyes. 

Eventually he’s shaken from his trance and realizes he has barely scratched the surface of Thor’s bag. He puts the melted mask aside and pulls out some basic clothing items: a few t-shirts and boxers. Shoved amidst a few pairs of rolled up socks is a crumpled up ball of paper; when he flattens out the pages, it’s highly recognizable as the letter he previously photographed. There’s a flicker of triumph at his instincts being proven right, though he’s not really sure what it is he thinks he was right about. That Thor had the papers? There’s a big difference between being given them and stealing them, and Ben has no evidence for which happened. 

He’s about to replace the clothing carefully in the bag when he notices that it still has something in it. There’s a long rod, or handle, with a leather thong on the end. Ben grasps the wrapped handle firmly and is surprised to find that whatever the thing is, it’s extremely heavy. He uses good lifting posture, puts his legs into it, and manages to extract from the bag an enormous metal hammer. Its design and decoration are beautiful, like someone lovingly crafted it for a Renaissance faire. As with the mask, handling the hammer gives Ben an odd tingling sensation. He shakes his head — it must be that’s he’s had his caffeine on a totally abnormal schedule this morning. 

Why the hell is his grandma’s boytoy carting around a weird melted helmet and a giant hammer? Ben’s snooping is giving him more questions than answers, but it’s time to put everything away and get out of there before he gets interrupted again. He hefts the hammer back into the bottom of the rucksack, then crumples up the letter and throws it in with the socks. He replaces the tshirts and underwear and, finally, nestles the strange helmet on top at just the orientation it was when he opened the pack. He cinches the top and reclasps the flap.

Only then does he feel that someone’s behind him. He spins around suddenly only to see Rey. His heart, that had suddenly stopped in his chest when he realized he was being observed, starts beating again. 

Rey is staring at him from just inside Padmé’s room with her arms crossed and a mildly disapproving look on her face. “Snooping in here _again_?” she asks, tsking. “And Thor’s stuff this time? You’re really pushing your luck.”

He doesn’t really have anything to say to that, so he just stands there shrugging as Rey pushes past him, hefts the rucksack with one strong, lean arm, and dumps it back unceremoniously in its spot next to the armoire. “Come on, Ben,” she says. “Take off your serial killer gloves and let’s have some lunch, ok? I just got back from lecture and I’m starving.”

Eventually, he follows, watching the buns bob on her head as she precedes him down the stairs.

* * *

Rey and Finn are working the cafe together that afternoon and trying to ignore Padmé’s odd behavior. Their employer is, outwardly, as well put together as ever, though her eyes are red from crying. She’s definitely distressed, though. She’s had twice as much espresso as she normally does in a day and is continually forgetting where she put something. Every now and then, she ducks out the back to make a phone call. Her voice is often raised during the calls, but Rey hasn’t eavesdropped to find out who she’s talking to. If it were a normal week, she’d guess she’s calling her daughter, Ben’s mom, the one in rehab. But the visits of Léon and Thor have thrown a wrench in something about the older lady’s life, so Rey wouldn’t hazard a guess who she’s calling.

It’s around three in the afternoon when Thor bangs through the front door of the cafe in a gust of wind. He cracks a smile for Rey, who brings him a large black coffee and another mini cannoli, but his face relapses into a worried look. Relief flashes across his countenance briefly when Padmé walks back into the shop. He stands and gestures to the front door with his head. “Dearest, walk with me?”

Padmé grabs her purse and hurries out with him. Finn turns to Rey with his mouth agape. “Whoa, Rey, what’s going on there?”

“Hah, I knew you were trying to set me up with Thor yesterday!” Rey crows. “Apparently he is, I don’t know, a special friend of Padmé’s?” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Ben saw him coming out of her room this morning in just boxers.”

Finn looks shocked, then laughs heartily. “Padmé is a pretty amazing lady. But I bet that gloomy grandson of hers did not approve of having another big macho dude in the house. I’m surprised no one got murdered.”

Rey smirks. “True, it was tense. But Ben’s not that bad, really.”

Finn looks at her a long moment. “Maybe I tried to set you up with the wrong customer. Maybe I need to spill smoothies on tall dark and grumpy so you can find out what _he’s_ packing.”

“You think I haven’t seen him shirtless? We are housemates, you know,” Rey points out. 

Finn grins. “You looking for any more housemates, Rey-Rey? Not fair to hoard all the eye candy.”

Rey snorts. “Ben Solo is so not your type, Finn.” She returns to cleaning the steam wand on the espresso bar and a companionable silence falls over the two baristas. They tend to take turns studying when there is a lull in the shop, so Finn pulls out his laptop to continue working on his thesis paper. He’s finishing a master’s in nonprofit management at Suffolk while juggling his usual two jobs: barista and social worker for the Department of Children and Families. The cafe is his opportunity to recharge in the company of friends. However much he might tease Rey, their friendship is precious to him.

* * *

  
Padmé and Thor begin a walk in the blustery weather in uncomfortable silence before Padmé huffs and turns them around. Leading them back to the cafe, she unlocks her car and motions Thor to get in. He remembers his seatbelt without her warning him this time, and she drives them back to the house.

Once the car is parked in the short, brick-paved driveway, Padmé is in no hurry to get out. “I tried to call Nick twice today and I just can’t reach him. Knowing that Luke is out there and has had no way to come visit—it’s making me so anxious.”

Thor reaches over to stroke her arm. “Padmé, you should have told me. Nick is on Asgard at the moment. He tries to visit very frequently nowadays. He was a lot older than Anakin or I, so the Midgard posting is having its toll.”

Padmé nods. “That makes things more difficult. How am I going to make contact with my son?”

Thor sighs. “I can go talk to Nick about it if need be. But I was really looking forward to spending some time getting to know you again, darling. Getting to know you now, the woman you’ve grown into, rather than the ghost of a memory.”

“That’s all I am, Thor,” she shakes her head. “The ghost of a memory. It’s all I can be. I…I know I have been a widow, really, for almost fifty years. But I can’t turn back the clock to…to us.” She looks away, out the driver’s side window. 

Thor huffs a breath out through his nostrils and gets out of the car abruptly, stalking off into the small garden. It’s not what he wanted to hear. But it is what he should have expected. So it’s only a minute or two before he’s calm again. Padmé has gotten out of the vehicle and is unlocking the front door. He follows her in, silently. 

After greeting a cat, Padmé pads slowly upstairs to her room, and again he follows, pushing the door shut behind them. She turns to face him.

“Thor, I don’t want to disappoint you. You were so important to me, to who I became in my life. I really admire who you’ve become, too.” She smiles wistfully. “I hope we see each other more often?” She walks over to his rucksack, to hand it to him and signify the end of this visit, but the thing is immovably heavy. “What did you pack in this thing? A keg?”

He laughs, opening the top of the bag, which gives him an excuse to stand right up next to her. “Just Mjolnir.” He pulls out Anakin’s destroyed helmet from the backpack and hands it to her. “I think it’s better for you to have this. You can have a funeral, or memorialize him in whatever way you see fit. Get the closure you need.” He clears his throat, closing the rucksack and throwing it over his shoulder before embracing her firmly to him. Stars, her body still feels so right after all these years.

Padmé drops the foul mask on the coverlet and looks up into his eyes, gently stroking the side of his face with one hand. Sweetly, slowly, she tilts her head and kisses him on the mouth. “Thank you, Thor. For everything.”

He closes his eyes and nods, knowing when he’s been dismissed. Well, even if she doesn’t feel the same way about him, he’s willing to lay down his life for her. For now, all she needs is a way for herself or her son to make a trip between realms contrary to normal protocol. Heck, the kid is a Jedi, so it’s not even that contrary to protocol. Thor is determined to find a way to fulfill her wish. Step one is talking to Nick Fury.

With a last kiss to Padmé’s hand, Thor turns, opens the door, and walks out of her room, out of her house, out of her life once again.

Padmé wipes an incipient tear from her eye, and on tiptoe places the melted mask in her favorite spot of concealment on top of her armoire. Then she sits down on the edge of her bed, face in her hands, and finally lets the sobbing come.

* * *

That night just before midnight, insomniac as ever, Ben is staring out his gable window on the third floor. He doesn’t know what’s worse: the nightmares that come when he’s asleep or the memories that come when he isn’t. 

The nightmares never really make sense; they don’t ever involve people he knows doing things in places he’s been to. They are just filled with pain and dread. 

The memories are too familiar, by contrast. He wishes he didn’t remember the part he played in enhanced interrogations. The assassinations. The time he learned his team had been sent to the wrong village for an assassination which, unfortunately, they successfully carried out. That man’s family probably still wondered why their goatherder father had been shot by a mysterious sniper.

Genghis Khan (and Conan for that matter) was totally fucking wrong. Hearing the lamentations of the women was not what was best in life. Unfortunately devastation was probably what Ben was best at. He was lucky to have a respite from it, but all his exercise, the constant work, it was all to distract him from that urge to destroy shit.

Outside the window, the wind picks up precipitously and he can just make out a lone lightning strike in the distance.

The next morning all signs of Thor’s visit are gone except for his grandmother’s very strange mood.

* * *

_Somerville, Massachusetts. October 21, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

On Tuesdays, Rey has an evening class, so Ben and Padmé have dinner together on their own. Ben is making small talk about the mayor, the Bruins, his latest weightlifting regimen, but nothing seems to pull his grandmother out of her distant expression. Finally, she looks at him sharply and interrupts at random.

“Ben, I’m thinking about taking a trip.”

This is interesting. “Where to, Nonna?” 

“I can’t tell you yet. But it might be dangerous.”

Ben shakes his head. He thought she had retired to move past the overly adventurous life of a SHIELD scientist. “Couldn’t you go on a nice cruise or something?”

Padmé chuckles wryly. “Do you really think that would be my scene, Ben? Not to mention those things are virus nightmares anyway. Last place on Earth I’d like to be cooped up. No, I’m pretty decided. But I would like to be well prepared. Do you think you could help me get back up to speed with my target shooting?”

Ben chokes on his food momentarily, then shrugs. “Didn’t that Léon dude of yours have a shooting range?”

Padmé nods. “Did being the operative word. He retired and shut it. Plus, he is ninety, and you are my nice 27-year-old grandson who needs to spend some quality time giving back to his grandmother for all the hard work she put in raising him.”

Ben sighs. This is not an argument he’s going to win. “Ok, Nonna. I’ll help you. But if I think you are not making good firearm safety decisions, we’re done, okay? And you need to think seriously about if you really want to travel to somewhere where you think you need to be armed. Where are you going, Morocco? Damascus? Pakistan? Trust me, they are not really worth it right now. Or at least, bring me along.” He sighs. He really doesn’t want to to go on vacation as his grandmother’s bodyguard. But he also really doesn’t want her to get in trouble. And she’s been acting so odd lately.

Padmé looks at him intently for a moment, as if seriously considering the suggestion. Then she shakes her head sadly. “I don’t think that would fly, Ben. But thank you for the offer.” She smiles and refills his glass with wine. “Lovely job on the scallops, by the way.” He rarely does seafood when Rey is around, but it’s Padmé’s favorite thing.

* * *

_Somerville, Massachusetts. October 23, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

It's a dreary, rainy Thursday afternoon and Ben is putting away the plates after an intense lifting session at the gym in Davis Square when his mom calls back. He's so surprised to see her name on the Caller ID that he drops the phone even though his hands are covered in chalk. He picks it up, answering while wiping sweat from his face with the hem of his grey t-shirt. He sees one of the gym rat chicks ogling his abs and scowls at her. 

There's no great place in a Boston Sports Club location to have a private conversation with your mom in rehab, so he mumbles small talk while changing shoes and grabbing his gym bag. He often showers at home anyway. Rather than get rained on while having a phone conversation, he ducks under the overhang of a nearby building, leaning against the rough brown bricks.

"Ok, Mom, spit it out," he says, interrupting her rambling but admittedly hilarious narrative about trying to learn to hula hoop with half a dozen other wealthy recovering addicts. "We spoke like three days ago. Why are you calling so soon? You ok?"

"Yeah, bored, but Ben...I was thinking about what you said about me blaming you. The therapist has been talking about taking responsibility as a necessary step to healing, and I wanted to try to do that with you." There's a pause. "Ben, I know it's not your fault that I do drugs. It's not even Padmé's fault, at all, even though I sometimes felt like I played second fiddle to her work at the agency."

Ben closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. "Thanks, Mom. I'm glad you can admit this now at least. Who knows how you'll feel if you relapse again, though. Did the therapist have anything useful to say about figuring out why you _do_ go back to drugs so often?"

Leia doesn't answer immediately. When she does, it's emotional. "Ben, maybe I should have talked about this with you when you were younger, I don't know. I had a diagnosis of schizophrenia when I was a little girl."

"Wow," is all he can say, wondering how neither his mother nor his grandmother thought this might be useful medical history knowledge for him to have. Like, what the fuck? But he tries to control his anger and just listen.

"I had an imaginary friend," she is telling him. "He was this beautiful little blond boy with bright blue eyes, and he would just appear in my room from time to time. Never when anyone else was there. I would talk to him, and show him my toys, but if he said anything I never heard him. He did smile a lot, and he wore this silly outfit like a, I don't know, judo athlete maybe? When I was very young I thought he was my age, but he didn't seem to grow up like I did."

"So, the doctors back then decided you had schizophrenia? What did they prescribe?"

"A lot of awfulness," Leia responds. "Medication that I had a bad reaction to. Or a nanny to be always with me so I wouldn't see my friend. At one point I was in an institution for a month, and they tried one of those electro-convulsive therapies, which was so bad that your grandmother decided that basically the treatments were worse than the disease. The boy wasn't encouraging me to hurt myself or others, so she figured schizophrenia wasn't hurting me as badly as trying to get rid of it.

"Unfortunately, when I was a very young teenager, I discovered marijuana. For many people it's supposed to make mental illness worse or even be a trigger for them to start having symptoms, but I found that when I got high I didn't see the boy. I was thirteen, and it seemed a lot more normal and accepted to be high than to have a weird 6-year-old buddy in a karate uniform hanging out in my room."

"I can understand that," Ben says, remembering the awfulness of middle school. 

"So, long story short, when I get clean and sober for a while, I start to worry that I'll lose my grip on reality, and then I start doing drugs again. But this last time I was really doing so much better."

"I know, Mom," Ben concurs. "You didn't have any incidents for like three years, and I thought you might be getting it together for good after you won the BAFTA."

"Well," she grumbles, "my fears came true. My imaginary friend came back last year, so I thought I was losing my mind. Cocaine was, of course, the next step."

"Mom, it doesn't have to be. You could come stay with me and Padmé, try not to be alone?" Ben's already regretting making the offer, not that she's likely to take him up on it.

"Thanks, Ben, but you would kill me soon enough," Leia laughs roughly. 

"So, you still are willing to risk your health because you don't want to hang out with a non-threatening elementary school kid in a karate gi?" Ben is shaking his head. The rain has let up, so he shoulders his bag and starts walking back to the house while they talk.

"He doesn't look like that any more," his mother answers. "He did grow up, if not as much as I did. When I saw him last year he still had the shaggy blond hair and the bright blue eyes, but now he wears a black suit with a Nehru jacket or something and black leather gloves. I'd guess he's twenty-something."

"Did you ever give this friend a name?" Ben asks.

"No," Leia muses. "I called him Brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: a surprising Halloween visitor and a visit to the ER.
> 
> Ever wonder how kind, self-controlled Padmé could be related to Kylo Ren? [Wonder no longer.](https://youtu.be/-A0iftflme4?t=29)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious man in black causes some problems. Things thaw a little on planet Reylo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi: Because of the way time is handled in this fic, I had to make a decision about Sequel Trilogy heroes who I wanted to have functional roles in the plot. They either have to be on Midgard, not Ieldraan, or I have to move their birth year back into the Empire period. Just thought you might be wondering why various Resistance folks are showing up as "Coffee House AU" people basically. :)

__

_Somerville, Massachusetts. October 31, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Ben wakes gasping from another nightmare. There’s a grey, deep darkness outside his windows, broken up by the lone street lamp; a glance at the clock shows 2:57 a.m. The house is still, so at least he didn’t scream and wake anyone this time. The dream felt familiar despite its odd setting, as they often have since his nightmares began about a decade ago. He doesn’t know if he dreams all the time and only remembers them sometimes, or if it’s an unwarranted déjà vu. 

> _In the dream, he was kneeling at a low pedestal. An unearthly light shone on it, illuminating the relic that rested there: the twisted black mask he had found in Thor’s backpack. From nowhere, or from all around him, a grating voice spoke._
> 
> _“You must finish what I started,” it whispered. Only then Ben realized that he wasn’t dressed as he normally would. His legs were encased in black leather, his feet in heavy boots. Layers of stiff sable tunics armored his upper body, along with heavy black gloves and a tattered, coal-black cape._
> 
> _He stood, determined to ignore the shrine to Thor’s creepy mask, and turned away, only to be confronted by a mirror. He saw himself — or the dream’s version of himself — a hulking, ferocious specter. In place of his face, he now saw that he too wore a mask: the very double of the melted, horrible object he had turned away from._
> 
> _Now that he saw that he was wearing a mask, he realized how much it was confining his field of vision. And his breathing. Suddenly, breathing became difficult and he realized he needed to escape from the mask or he would suffocate. He reached his gloved hands up, searching for a way to remove it, but to no avail. Spots were floating in his vision when…he woke up._

Ben rolls over, hoping dejectedly to snatch more sleep even in the disturbed state brought on by his nightmare. He isn’t successful, so he gets out of bed at 3:30 and begins the day’s work. His morning run provides a good break.

On his return, he notices that Rey and Padmé are out, as is normal at this time on a Friday. Glancing into Padmé’s room, he sees a black glint from atop the armoire where his grandmother attempts to hide things.

He can’t help himself. He walks soundlessly into the room and grasps the object, taking down the weird, misshapen mask from its spot. With one bare finger he traces the eye sockets and the mouth shield, damaged as they are. He knows what it feels like to be confined in a prison like this. To be unable to breathe, barely able to see. Hearing whispered voices. He shudders at the strange sensation he feels holding the dark material and quickly, as if he has been burned, chucks it back up on top of the armoire. 

Why had Thor brought the thing? Why did he leave it with Padmé? Was it related to his grandmother’s weird behavior the last week and a half?

Even a long cold shower isn’t enough to slough off the worries.

* * *

Rey loves just about everything about Halloween. Growing up, it was the only time she could binge on candy, since Lorne never bought the stuff on their limited budget. They also didn’t celebrate Christian or secular candy-loaded holidays at home. The old martial artist never answered her questions about his meditative religion directly, but as Rey learned more about other cultures, she was inclined to believe it was an idiosyncratic form of Confucianism. 

This year, the weather is pretty good and she’s working her usual Friday shift at the cafe. She’s dressed as Lara Croft, and Padmé has just handed over the till to Sabine so she can go home and prepare the house for trick-or-treaters. Sabine is rocking a vintage Joan Jett red leather suit and is extremely excited about the house party she’s planning to attend. Even Léon, who seems to have decided that Fridays are his time to visit, is in the spirit. The old man is wearing an orange sweater and carrying a bag full of candy, which he offers to all the other visitors to the cafe.

“Drink milk,” he recommends to Rey with a twinkle in his watery eyes. “Tastes wonderful with the chocolate,” he says, munching on a fun size Twix.

When four o’clock comes, he tips his cap to the women staffing the cafe and makes his way out the door and down the street. No one is left in Café Nabú except the two employees, so Rey tells Sabine she can go. It’s not very likely anyone will come in during the last hour on a normal Friday, let alone on Halloween. Once Sabine is gone Rey opens her robotics notes on the bar counter and helps herself to a lonely panini from the pastry case. 

She’s engrossed in engineering diagrams and doesn’t hear any chiming from the door, but she suddenly looks up to see a man standing before the register, contemplating the chalked up list of beverage offerings, his brow furrowed. Rey is surprised; she never tunes out so thoroughly as to miss the door chiming. But as usual, she’s determined to make a new customer comfortable. So she smiles and walks over to the till. “How may I help you, sir?”

He smiles at her slightly, brushing longish, curling light brown hair back from his face, inadvertently revealing a narrow scar tracing across his right brow and cheekbone. “I’d like something to drink. What do you recommend?”

“Depends on what you like. Hot or cold? Caf or decaf? Coffee or tea?”

“I don’t know,” he muses. “I’ve never been here before. Let’s say hot, caf? Something sweet maybe?”

She smiles and sets to work making a mocha. “Coming right up. What brings you in here today?”

The young man, probably somewhere between her age and Ben’s, is dressed for Halloween in some kind of simple samurai-style garb, with a black leather-trimmed tunic over matching trousers and boots. Maybe he’s a character from a video game? He has piercing light brown eyes with flecks of gold in them that make it look like he’s staring right through her. 

And somehow, Rey is not surprised when he answers, “I’m actually hoping to find the owner of this cafe. Padmé Naberrie?”

She shakes her head, smiling. “You are now the third friend of Padmé’s who has come looking for her just this month. Do you need me to call her?”

He looks thoughtful, then shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to trouble her. You wouldn’t be able to direct me to her home, would you?”

Rey is skeptical. The Thor guy was sketchy enough and she doesn’t know if it’s likely that Padmé’s adventurous earlier life has left her with enemies. On the other hand, she seemed happy to see Léon and Thor, so chances are good she’ll be happy to see this guy too. He’s not quite as tall as Léon or as built as Thor, but there’s something about him that reminds her of Ben’s attitude; he seems to fit in with Padmé’s little collection of blokes.

“I can’t really do that, I’m sorry,” Rey says, passing him his mocha. “But if you tell me your mobile number or where you are staying or something?”

He frowns. “I’m not, really. Staying anywhere at the moment.” He takes a sip of the hot beverage, rejecting the cardboard sleeve she offers in favor of grasping it with his black leather-gloved hand. “This is delicious,” he says, the frown dissipating. There’s whipped cream stuck to his lip, but she’s not going to tell him. “How do you know Padmé, by the way?” he asks. “Are you her daughter or something?”

Rey laughs. “No, nothing of the sort. Padmé’s daughter is like, I don’t know, fifty? There is a grandson; he and I share a house with Padmé. I’m no relation, though.”

His eyes widen when she mentions how old Leia is, but he keeps looking at her searchingly. “I thought you looked somehow familiar, but I guess I’m wrong.” He seems to be debating with himself, and eventually puts the coffee down where he’s still standing at the bar, just like Léon did that first day. He raises a hand toward Rey, making a small, nearly imperceptible gesture. “You will direct me to Padmé’s home,” he states confidently.

Rey looks at him quizzically. “I’m sorry, I already told you I couldn’t do that,” she replies, turning away to clean out the drip coffee pot. 

Behind her back, the young man frowns, muttering under his breath, “Kriff! I guess everything they said about Midgard was true.”

Rey is puzzled when she turns around a couple minutes later and he isn’t there. She never heard the door chime. Annoyingly, she never rang him up for his purchase or even asked his name.

She doesn’t see the dark figure shadowing her homeward an hour later.

* * *

Padmé has carefully arranged the carved jack-o’lanterns on the front steps and is putting electric votive candles in each one when Rey gets home. Her holiday spirit seems muted, though; she hides away in her room while Ben and Rey share the simple meal Padmé set out of frittata, salumi, and salad. 

Rey sets her silverware aside after finishing her early dinner and looks appraisingly at Ben. “What are you going to wear as your costume?” They generally take shifts greeting trick-or-treaters with Padmé. 

But Ben looks skeptical. “I’m not really feeling it this year. I’m going to be a hacker who hides in his loft and drinks whisky. It’ll be a very convincing, realistic costume.”

Rey laughs aloud. “Nice try, Ben. I insist. Finish your food and then we are going shopping in your closet.”

He sighs heavily but follows her up the stairs. “You know, Rey, I think this is the first week since you moved in that you and I have actually had more than one conversation without Padmé. I’m not sure that makes you a close enough friend to compel me to wear a Halloween costume.”

Rey pouts. “Do you even friend, bro? Come on, let’s get creative here. You have a tux, right?” she says, walking into the odd, dark little bedroom off his work loft. It’s 80% filled with his bed, and the rest is packed with dressers and armoires. “You could be James Bond.”

“Not wearing my tux for Halloween. Do you know how much it costs to clean those things?”

“You can afford it,” she sniffs. “Ok, no Bond. How about Conan or Tarzan or Hercules or something? I heard you telling Padmé all about your powerlifting.”

Ben has the grace to blush while shaking his head no, vigorously. “Fuck no. It’s not that warm and vampires are tanner than me.”

“A goth?”

“No.”

“Dracula?”

“No teeth.”

“Indiana Jones?”

He pauses long enough before opening his mouth to say no that she knows she’s got him. “Come on, I know you have cargo pants and a worn out white shirt. Finn left his cowboy hat here last month, and I’ll make you a whip. Fair?”

Ben nods, slowly, before breaking into a grin. “I actually have the perfect thing.” He opens the armoire and takes a cardboard box off the top shelf. Opening it, he takes out a bright coppery-colored object that looks like a mask on a pedestal.

Rey laughs in turn. “What a perfect prop! “It belongs in a museum,”” she growls in a good Indy imitation. “What the hell is that anyway?”

Ben smiles wryly. “My mom’s BAFTA. She asked me to hang onto it, last time I saw her, so she wouldn’t pawn it for drugs,” he sighs. 

“Ouch,” Rey murmurs. There’s silence for a moment; he puts the trophy down and pulls his shirt off, then rummages in the armoire for his oldest and most worn out Oxford shirt. Rey admires the view. She imagines most women would disagree, but she kind-of prefers Ben’s physique to Thor’s. He’s paler and not as cut, but there are scars and moles that make him look more…human. Real. Vulnerable. 

Yeah, she definitely has the hots for him. He’s right that they’re spending more time together. It’s a good thing, maybe? But it makes it easy to forget he’s like a decade older and a world wealthier.

Apparently, he’s decided that they’re close enough friends for him to change in front of her, because he’s pulling his jeans off and stepping into the cargo pants she referenced. She averts her eyes from the patterned navy boxer briefs that outline his impressive glutes and thighs. “Not like she needs drug money,” he’s saying. “She still shares a credit card with my dad, and he doesn’t give a shit if she spends all his money as long as she isn’t around to yell at him.”

“So she just wanted you to have her BAFTA?”

He shrugs. “Guess so. Tonight it can get some exercise. Now, where’s that hat you mentioned? And how are you planning to make me a whip?”

“Patience, Indy. First you need to get in character more. You don’t look at all like a working archaeologist.”

He sighs and complies as she makes him roll up his sleeves, unbutton his shirt, and even get some dirt from the garden to streak across his neck and chest. While they’re out there she ducks into Padmé’s shed, emerging with a long coil of rope which she proceeds to turn into a very convincing whip, securing it to his belt. 

“Hm, I guess we’re both archaeologists,” he realizes, looking down at Rey, who’s still dressed as Lara Croft.

She smiles up at him dazzlingly. “We’d make a good team!” She holds his gaze just a little too long, but eventually steps back. “Ooh, I can’t forget my weapons,” she says, and runs off to grab the final details of her costume.

* * *

  
When Padmé emerges from her room to begin greeting the trick-or-treaters, she evinces a mysterious elegance. Her hair is braided and pulled up in loops to her head, and she wears a black and purple brocade robe. Every year she reinterprets a witch costume, and the candy comes out of an enormous prop cauldron she keeps inside the small, tidy enclosed front porch. 

“I’ll take the first shift,” she says with a muted smile. Ben is mixing up some sort of cocktail in the kitchen, and Rey joins him. They sip their drinks and watch from the loveseat by the front bay window as the neighborhood kids file up and chat with the friendly witch at her giant cauldron. 

Ben leans back, extending his arm over the top of the loveseat. He did always enjoy Halloween as a kid, and it’s fun to watch the joy on the young faces as Padmé fills their bags. This group features a vampire, Harry Potter, and a very small Batman and Robin. Robin has darling little pigtails and takes more than the allotted number of candies before scurrying after her friends or cousins. Ben figures if he ever had a three-year-old, she’d probably get all the candy too. Luckily Padmé isn’t the kind of grandmother to pressure him about shit like reproducing.

Rey’s attention is distracted by the BAFTA trophy she’s turning over in her hands, so she doesn’t see what Ben sees next. A young man in his middle twenties walks up the street. He’s wearing a broad-shouldered tunic with black leather accents and has wavy hair slightly longer than Ben’s. He directs his steps to Padmé’s front gate even though he’s not accompanying any children. 

The man hesitates a moment, then pushes the low gate open and walks a few steps toward the house. But then there’s a crashing noise in the porch. Ben leaps to his feet as he sees that Padmé has fallen, knocking over her cauldron. He’s at her side in an instant, followed by Rey moments later.

“Nonna, are you all right? What’s wrong?” he demands, trying to maneuver his grandmother out of the dark brocade heap that she’s fallen into. 

She moans. “Benny, I think I need a doctor.” He feels her neck for her pulse and it’s racing but so faint. 

“Are you in pain?” he asks. He knows that people often miss the signs of heart attack and stroke in older women, not to mention the chance she broke something in the fall, so he’s inclined to agree with her about the doctor. He flicks a glance up at Rey, who looks like she can read his mind. She nods abruptly and runs into the house, cell phone out, dialing 911 immediately. Padmé is shaking her head.

“No, I’m not…not in pain. I think I hallucinated for a moment, and then collapsed? Ben,” she says, grasping his arm and staring up at him intently, “I saw your grandfather.”

Ben furrows his brows briefly. “Anakin? Is he even still alive, Nonna?” She’s never been willing to speak about the man.

“No, no he’s not alive,” she mutters, sounding less sharp by the second. “And I saw him like he was when we were together. Young. Beautiful,” she sighs.

Suddenly something clicks in Ben’s mind and he looks around wildly. The man he’d seen coming into the yard isn’t there anymore. In the hurry to assist Padmé he hadn’t seen where he went.

“Nonna, you didn’t hallucinate, there was really a man here. Just a young guy like me, with long hair and a black tunic. Is that what Anakin looked like?”

She nods. “And always a black glove on the right hand, and a scar over the right eye.”

Ben hadn’t looked at the guy carefully enough to see if those details were there. “Well, however much this guy looked like Anakin, it still means you weren’t hallucinating if I saw him too, right, Nonna?”

She still looks pale, though, and has begun mumbling something about Thor being wrong. Her lucidity is definitely slipping, so Ben is glad when the ambulance pulls up minutes later. The EMTs look hassled — Halloween is always one of the worst nights of the year — but Ben thanks them and climbs in to ride with his grandmother. Rey waves and comes out of the house, a concerned look on her face as she rights the cauldron and starts returning the spilled candy to it.

* * *

It’s not a long ride to the ER, and then the bustle of medical personnel and bleeding people and fake-blood-covered Halloween-costumed people keeps Ben occupied. Eventually Padmé is in a bed and Ben is talking with the cardiologist, a Dr. Rose Tico. 

“She didn’t report any numbness or have difficulty speaking did she?” Dr. Tico asks.

Ben shakes his head, looking at his grandmother with concern.

“Well, based on that and her vitals, it’s pretty likely she did not have a stroke, but if you like we can do a CT scan. It would be nice to know what did happen.”

Ben looks at the doctor. She seems cheerful and welcoming, competent in a way that sets a lot of his worries at ease. Unfortunately, a lot of people probably assume she’s a nurse because she’s so not-scary. “I’ll go with whatever you recommend, Doctor. Padmé can certainly afford it. What would be involved?”

The doctor hands over some informational sheets. “We’d check her into a normal hospital room for observation overnight, and then proceed with the scan in the morning if everything looks ok to go ahead. We’d be hoping she would be able to give consent for the scan, but if she’s out of it, she does have the paperwork in order making you her healthcare proxy.”

Ben nods. “Can I stay with her, like sleep in a chair or whatever?” 

Rose looks him up and down. “I think you’ll be more support to her tomorrow if you go home. She’s going to be fine here, and I will put an excellent team on looking out for her. The chairs aren’t really…big enough.”

Ben frowns. “Ok. If you think she’s stable, I’ll come back first thing tomorrow. God, I’m exhausted.”

* * *

When Ben steps out of the Uber on Cooper Street he looks up at the bright lights streaming through the bay window and sees Rey pacing in the living room. Seconds later he’s stepping into the house and she rushes to wrap him tightly in her arms. 

“She’s probably fine but spending the night in the hospital,” he says into Rey’s hair. “I’m so worried.”

“I know how you feel,” Rey mumbles into his chest. “I’m worried too. When you guys left I did all the things I could think of to productively help — I cleaned up from dinner, got people to cover for Padmé’s time in the cafe tomorrow, finished with the trick-or-treaters — but then I’ve just been pacing and drinking. So, what did the doctors say specifically?” She releases him from the hug, but grabs his wrist and pulls him along behind her. He follows blindly as she leads the way to the large comfortable sofa in the back of the living area, where they sit down. He notices that she seems a little off balance. 

“The cardiologist is great and seems pretty certain Nonna didn’t have a stroke. She’s going to run a CT scan in the morning. Hallucination is not a normal symptom for any of the big health concerns except brain tumors, but I don’t believe she hallucinated anyway. I think I saw the same guy she did, she’s just been emotionally overwrought and thought the guy was Anakin.”

“Who’s Anakin?” Rey asked, sipping her bright blue cocktail.

“My grandfather,” Ben explained. “Who I know literally nothing about, except that he was probably a dangerous asshole and, apparently, had long hair, a scar, and black gloves.”

“Huh, sounds like the guy who came to the cafe today and asked for Padmé. I forgot to mention it to her earlier,” Rey commented.

“Really? Any chance he could have ended up in our neighborhood?”

“He really wanted me to tell him Padmé’s address, but obviously I wouldn’t. I suppose I wouldn’t have noticed if he followed me back here, but that would be pretty creepy.”

Ben looks thoughtful and concerned for a moment. Then he shrugs. “I don’t know what to think. Occam’s Razor says Padmé is on edge because of whatever happened during Thor’s visit that has her so out of it. So she just passed out when she saw this random who reminded her of Anakin.”

Rey tilts her head on one side, scooting slightly closer. “So, what’s the non-simple explanation?”

Ben frowns. “There are way too many, at least if you have a vaguely suspicious mindset and an active imagination. Like, Thor and this guy are SHIELD or enemy agents messing with Padmé, either because of your dad’s briefcase or for some other reason. Or, heck, maybe Anakin had a second family and this is his son or grandson, who wants money from Padmé somehow.”

“You sound like Jerry Springer,” Rey comments ruefully, with a hiccup. 

Ben barks out a mirthless laugh. “You remember the conversation earlier where I told you my mom gave me her BAFTA so she wouldn’t pawn it for drugs? Yeah. Padmé doesn’t usually bring the drama, at least not since retirement, but it’s always simmering somewhere in my family. Anyway, I need a drink.” He stands up and walks over to the drinks trolley, grabbing a midrange Scotch and a glass.

Ben pours himself a generous two fingers and sits down right next to her, thigh pressed against thigh, as he clinks their glasses together. "To Padmé's health."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Rey and Ben try to "console" one another. Plus, the mystery man in black kriffs up some more stuff.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben try to "console" one another. Plus, the mystery man in black kriffs up some more stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you all for the comments on this fic! It doesn't have a huge number of readers but those of you who are reading have really engaged with it and I appreciate that so much! If any of you have ideas for adjustments I should make to the tags, summary, posting day/time, etc. to reach more people that it might interest, let me know. (I know -- twitter/tumblr is king -- I just haven't had the energy to figure that out...)

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_Somerville, Massachusetts. The small hours of November 1, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

The conversation about their worries about Padmé dies down after a while, leaving Ben and Rey sitting on the couch in companionable silence. Rey takes a long swallow of her drink, daring to let her head rest on Ben’s warm, solid shoulder.

“You make a good Lara Croft,” he says quietly, looking down at her. 

She raises an eyebrow and shifts to look up at him. “I’m no Angelina Jolie,” she objects.

“Hmm,” Ben mutters, “You're fierce, you’re better at martial arts, and you totally are enough of a friend to insist I wear a Halloween costume. I was enjoying it, till Nonna fell.” He frowns.

“Enough of a friend? Damning with faint praise,” Rey sighs melodramatically. She elbows him, teasing. “What can I do to get upgraded to Real Friend? To “More Than Sufficient Friend?”” 

Ben’s eyes flick shut for a moment. “I’d think you were my Magic Awesome Friend if you could get my mind off my grandmother for a minute.”

“Hmm, that’s a tough call,” Rey comments, finishing her luridly blue drink and setting the martini glass on the coffee table. “I’m worrying about her too much, too, so it would benefit both of us. How about a game — something silly, like Truth or Dare or watching a movie and doing shots.”

“Nah, the only games I like take thirty hours and involve hex tiles.”

Rey laughs, pours more whisky into his glass, and puts on her thinking face, tapping her lip with her index finger. She stares up at him while he gazes at her over the rim of his glass. His eyes are bottomless, inky depths that she can't read, but it feels good to have that intensity trained on her body. “Would it distract you if I did this?” She tilts her head, craning her neck a little, and places a little kiss on his jawline. She figures if he recoils, she can just blame this on the booze. No hard feelings if she “can’t remember” in the morning.

Fortunately, though, he’s flushing pink as he looks down at her wide-eyed. “That is a very good distraction,” he says, putting his glass down again hastily to grab her face in his long hands, calloused from lifting. Suddenly, he’s kissing her so intensely and passionately she never would have guessed that taciturn Ben Solo had it in him. 

Rey moans as he tilts her head to explores her mouth vigorously with his tongue. He pulls her hips closer to him on the couch, helping her shift one leg up and around behind him. Before she knows it, Rey is rocking gently on his lap. The air around them is heady with whisky fumes and his hair is so soft as she runs a hand through it.

His fingers explore gently up her sides until they’re ghosting under her breasts. He bends and kisses the top of each breast above the rounded neckline of her Lara Croft tank top. “May I?” he murmurs against her skin, and her whispered “Yes” sounds like a benediction. 

Ben hooks a finger under each of Rey’s shoulder straps and yanks them down almost roughly, then pulls the front of her shirt down to expose her breasts. She shivers, causing them to tremble slightly, but he reaches up with large, warm hands and cups them, massaging tenderly. Next he kisses, licking her nipples by turns until she’s squirming, positively worried that her wetness is going to become noticeable even through her cargo capris. 

“Mmm,” he mumbles, plucking gently at a wet nipple. “Can I get you into a bed perhaps? There’s so much I’d like to do to you.” When Rey nods, he picks her up as she clings around his waist with her strong thighs, around his neck with her long arms, and carries her bodily up the first flight of stairs. “Your place or mine?” he jokes.

“Mine is closer to the bathroom,” she offers. So he turns to the right and bursts into her room, shooing a cat off the bed mercilessly before putting Rey down in the spot it vacates. Then he’s hurrying to unbutton his shirt as she stares tipsily grinning up at him.

* * *

Back at the hospital, Dr. Tico is finishing her shift when a nurse approaches her. “Is there supposed to be a guest overnight with Mrs. Naberrie?” she asks. 

Rose frowns. “A guest?”

“Yeah,” the nurse says, “there’s a young guy with longish hair asleep on the chair in there. Did you approve him to be in there?”

Rose huffs. “Her grandson promised me he would go home. Guess he changed his mind. Oh well, it’s his funeral.”

The nurse smiles. “10-4, doc. Now you have a good night, ok? See you first thing.” Rose Tico is an insanely skilled cardiologist, did her fellowship at the Cleveland Clinic, but about as far from arrogant as you can get. The nurses are always pleased to work with her. If she wants to play a little fast and loose with the rules about guests, her team is not going to raise a ruckus about it.

* * *

The second Ben finishes removing his shirt and crawls up onto Rey’s bed alongside her, she’s flipping him over and straddling his thighs. He’s kind-of impressed by her forwardness since he generally wouldn’t have guessed she was even into him. Part of him worries that it’s just the emotional strain and alcohol making her act this way. He should definitely check before he tries to fuck her.

“Earth to Ben?” Rey’s waving her hand in his face. He must look really spaced out. She’s raising an eyebrow for permission, hands at his belt. He swallows hard and nods harder. Not to mention that he’s _getting_ harder. This taking his mind off it thing is definitely working. 

Rey opens his belt and unzips his pants deftly, pulling the waistband of his underwear down to free his cock. She bites her lip, stroking him gently. He has no idea what she’s thinking, though he’d love to find out. He reaches up and plays with her nipples some more. 

She’s just scooting down the bed—he could swear she was going to put her mouth on him—when a loud cell phone starts ringing across the hall. It’s some classical music clip at an obnoxious volume level. Padmé’s phone. (She may be a retired scientist, but figuring out how to manage her phone notifications seemed to be beyond the woman.) Ben sighs heavily and punches the mattress beside him. “Fuck, I’ve gotta check that,” he groans, standing up and shoving himself awkwardly back into his pants as he staggers quickly across to his grandmother’s bedroom.

Ben spots the phone immediately on her escritoire, Caller ID flashing with the name “Nick Fury.” He swears under his breath. This isn’t one he can ignore and just go back to Rey. He flicks it on. 

“Uncle Nick, it’s been a while,” he says.

There’s a pause for a second. “Ben Solo?” Fury queries. “Where’s Padmé? I just got back to my office and saw she left a half a dozen voicemails last week. What’s going on?”

“You just got back to your office at—” he checks his watch— ”one in the morning on Halloween? Anyway, whatever, my grandmother is in the hospital.”

“The hospital?? What the fuck happened?” Agent Fury sounds shocked. Ben explains that she had a fall and thought she hallucinated, and was scheduled for a CT scan the next day. 

There’s a tapping sound as if the man at the other end of the call is nervously drumming with a pencil. But then he speaks decisively. “I’ll see you in the morning, young Ben. I’ll come up from DC. Padmé and I have been through a lot together and I owe her a few favors.”

Ben shrugs. “If that’s what you want to do, Nick, that’s fine. But I don’t think she’s actually in any danger. Just a bit of a tough time lately. Actually…you don’t happen to know a guy named Thor, do you?”

Nick Fury clears his throat. “Who I know or don’t know tends to be classified information, Solo. Why do you ask?”

Ben rolls his eyes, not like Fury can see it. “She’s been acting weird since he dropped by for a few days a couple weeks ago.” He doesn’t mention the briefcase and Léon, the connection to Rey. The overnight liaison.

“Hmm,” Fury muses. “Good to know.”

They hang up soon but by the time Ben lopes back to Rey’s room, she’s completely asleep. She looks devastating and ruined at the same time, sprawled out on her back snoring with her breasts spilling out over her abused tank top and her hair loose, flowing across the pillows. He sighs and drapes a blanket over her, kissing her forehead gently. Then he brushes his teeth and trudges slowly up to his room on the third floor.

Rey wanting him was, of course, too good to be true. 

* * *

Ben wakes before dawn with a low-grade hangover that mostly dissipates over the course of a shower and coffee. Rey still isn’t awake, so he feeds the cats before hurrying out to visit Padmé at the hospital. He wants to be sure to be in place before they start discussing CT scans with her.

At the nurses’ station he announces himself as Padmé Naberrie’s grandson. “Is it ok for me to go back to her room now?” he asks.

One of the nurses looks at him oddly. “You’re her grandson? I thought you spent the night in there with her.”

“No,” he shakes his head in confusion. “Dr. Tico thought that would be a bad idea, so I took her advice and went home.”

The nurse still looks confused, and begins typing in the workstation. “Give me just a second.” She disappears behind a curtain and Ben thinks he hears whispering. Then a nurse disappears down the hall, before coming back a minute shaking her head. The first nurse comes back to Ben.

“Sorry for the hold-up. I guess we were just confused! Someone thought they saw you in there last night. You can go on back now. She’s still sleeping.”

Padmé is, indeed, still sleeping when Ben lets himself into her room. He pulls a chair up next to the head of her bed and takes her hand gently in his — the one that isn’t attached to any monitors or devices, that is. He bends his head, closing his eyes as he tries to channel all his gratitude into a good health outcome for his grandmother. She has some Italian background, so he is probably on some level Catholic — not that he remembers her or his mom ever taking him to a Mass — and at this moment he wishes he knew how to pray.

The sound of a throat clearing rouses him from his meditation. Ben sits up and turns his head — he didn’t hear the door or any doctors or nurses coming in — and he’s surprised to see a man standing in the corner by the door. It’s the young guy he saw outside Padmé’s house just before she collapsed, and he’s still dressed in his costume from the night before. The black garb is appropriate; dude is really a ninja judging from how quietly he came in.

Ben keeps his composure enough to ask a key question. “Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in here?”

The other man smirks, bowing his head slightly. “I’m Anakin Skywalker, and I’m visiting Padmé. Who are you?”

“I’m her grandson. I’m supposed to be here, unlike you, Anakin…?” Ben’s voice trails off into a question and his brow furrows. “That’s not a super common name.” He hopes to God the Jerry Springer scenario he mentioned to Rey, that his estranged grandfather had a second family, isn’t coming to life before his eyes.

“I’m sure it isn’t,” snarks the man in black. “But I imagine it’s a name you’ve heard before?”

Ben nods slowly, his eyes still narrowed at the other man in the room as if he were some kind of venomous creature. He doesn’t say anything, so Anakin continues.

“It’s your grandfather’s name, correct?”

Ben nods again.

“Well, I know this may be hard for you to conceptualize given how I look at the moment,” and here Anakin gestures at his face and down over his long spry body, “but I am your grandfather. Or, was.”

Ben’s mouth falls open, then shuts again. There’s a moment’s pause before he starts laughing aloud. “Nice, dude. Not sure how you think these things work, but my mom is older than you. My dad, too, in case you’re confused about where Anakin fits in the family tree.”

Anakin smirks and takes a step closer to him. “No, I know exactly how these things work. Everything worked very nicely when I was with Padmé.” He shakes his head. “Then I kriffed it all up. But I finally got the opportunity to come visit Padmé. I was so thrilled. Then she fell and I’m afraid I’ve kriffed this all up too.”

Ben wonders where this guy comes from that he has such strange swear words, where he comes from that he knows so much about Padmé. Even her name and her husband’s name are not widespread knowledge. The final thing Ben wonders about is the guy’s mental health. He doesn’t have any worries for his own physical safety, but there is a vulnerable elderly woman in the room.

An elderly woman who seems to be waking up. Ben breaks eye contact with Anakin to face Padmé, who is stirring. Her eyes flutter open and meet his. “Ben,” she croaks, smiling weakly. “Can I have some water?”

He nods and grabs her cup from the side table. He’s relieved to see that she recognizes him, and that she can grasp the cup and drink effectively. When she looks away from him, though, she gasps. “Anakin?” she breathes.

“Padmé,” he murmurs, rushing toward her. Ben stands to his full height, ready to intervene in whatever the hell is happening here with this strange impostor, when the door opens and Dr. Tico strides in, brimming with energy.

“Good morning, Mrs. Naberrie,” she says cheerfully, obviously delighted to see that her patient is already awake and may be able to make her own medical decisions. The doctor pushes the door shut behind her, then looks around, taking in the two young men and the strained atmosphere in the room. “So. What’s going on here?”

* * *

Rey stirs, groans, and cracks her eyes open to look at the clock. 7:45. She’s not running late yet; the cafe opens at 9 on Saturdays and Finn always runs that shift. Rey just needs to show up when Padmé normally would, which is more like 11. That gives her time to try to fix this god awful hangover.

Then Rey realizes that she is sprawled out over her bed like a starfish with her boobs hanging out of her shirt, and suddenly she’s putting her brain into overdrive trying to remember what the fuck happened last night.

Luckily most of it (she thinks) comes back without too much effort. Padmé falling. Her staying home while Ben took Padmé to the hospital, but being so worried about her benevolent boss and landlady that she didn’t really notice what she was drinking.

What she was drinking seems to have included blue curaçao, judging from the splatters on her cargo pants. Pants…she has a sudden flash of hazy memory of grinding into Ben’s lap on the sofa downstairs while he worshiped her breasts. Of him carrying her bodily upstairs. Of straddling him and encountering a very appealing cock. 

But she doesn’t know what happened. Clearly they didn’t fuck, because she’s still wearing her pants and her jaw isn’t even sore. The box of Magnums she optimistically bought is untouched. So what happened? Did he decide he didn’t want her after all? Did she tell him to go away for some reason? Did she just pass out because she drank too much? 

Rey really doesn’t know what to think, but the worst, most soul-destroying part of it is that he hasn’t left her any clues. No text messages, no emoji, no notes. When she goes down to the kitchen there’s coffee brewed as usual, but no food, nothing to show he’s thinking of her. All signs point to however it ended last night being…not positive, from his point of view.

Was she bad at touching him? Did he think her boobs were too small? Did she throw him out?

Rey shakes her head and decides to stop worrying about it. He doesn’t actually want her, or he’d have made some effort to connect in the morning. Last night was just hope and alcohol talking. He’s got enough to worry about with Padmé in the hospital. She should just forget about him and do her part to help the lady. If she ignores it hard enough, things can go back to normal in the house.

Right? God, her head hurts.

* * *

Ben speaks up to answer Dr. Tico’s query immediately. “I came in to visit my grandmother. This fellow seems to be some kind of stalker. I think he was at the house when she fell; he might have snuck in here in the night. He claims that he’s my grandfather, which is clearly preposterous, so I think we should involve a mental health professional.”

Rose nods, taking in the bizarre account he’s giving her of the situation. “Ok then. Padmé—do you have anything to say here to clear this up?”

The woman in the bed shrugs. “I’m terribly confused. I just got news that my husband died a week or two ago, but this is what he looked like, oh, fifty years ago.”

Rose turns to Anakin. “I’m inclined to go with Mr. Solo here and say that it’s extremely unlikely that you are his grandfather. Will you agree to something for me?”

“That depends,” Anakin says with a calculating look. “What?”

“I’d like to take a sample of your blood and Mr. Solo’s and run a paternity test. It shouldn’t take very long and will give Padmé a definitive answer. Now, if you turn out _not_ to be Mr. Solo’s grandfather, will you consent to consult with a mental health professional on staff here?”

Anakin shrugs. “It’ll be clear I’m his grandfather. DNA, midichlorians…I’m not worried. So yeah, whatever you want.”

Ben laughs, though a part of him is starting to wonder if SHIELD dabbles in human cloning. If this man is a clone of his grandfather, Ben isn’t going to win this argument based on a DNA test. But that’s damn unlikely. “The word is mitochondria, dude, and those only come from the mother anyway. Let’s do this, Dr. Tico. I see your point about giving my grandmother closure on this bizarre imposture.” He rolls up his sleeve.

Rose Tico is nothing if not efficient, and her staff do her bidding without question. They take the blood samples off for analysis even though the assignment sounds nonsensical. “All right, gentlemen,” she says when the techs leave the room. “I need to get Mrs. Naberrie into her scan. I’d prefer if you move to the waiting room.” 

The two men are eyeing one another askance when there’s another interruption. Two sharp raps sound on the door, and then Agent Nick Fury strides in. Ben is surprised to see that he’s accompanied by Thor. He’s even more surprised to see that apparently Thor, like Anakin, has decided to stretch the Halloween holiday out into the next day. The man is wearing tight navy leggings like a pro football player, high boots, and a navy compression shirt emblazoned with various strange circular bosses. He has his giant Ren-Faire hammer in one hand and is rocking an honest-to-goodness bright red cape. 

Ben shakes his head and blinks, as if that will make the sight less odd. It doesn’t, because he’s still standing in a small hospital room with his grandmother, her old employer, a top cardiologist, and two costumed nutjobs. His only hope is that Agent Fury has a grasp on the situation.

“Morning, Uncle Nick,” he says. “What the fuck is going on here?”

Anakin isn’t far behind in greeting the new arrivals. “Master Windu. I didn’t expect I would see you ever again.”

Padmé facepalms in her hospital bed. “Just like Ani to come spill secrets I manage to keep for fifty years. Galaxy's worst poker face,” she mutters under her breath. 

Sole eye flashing, Agent Fury looks around the room. He pushes the door firmly shut behind him. “Doctor,” he says with authority, pulling out his wallet and showing her his badge. “I’m with the SHIELD agency, and I need to hear your understanding of the situation here.”

Rose’s eyes widen with wonder — she’s heard rumors of SHIELD and the Avenger Initiative, of course, but that’s the challenge with covert agencies; you don’t hear much about them. So, she smiles and tries to comply while staying somewhere within a football field of the bounds of HIPAA. “Well, sir, Mrs. Naberrie had a fall yesterday and is here for a scan. Her grandson has been accompanying her. This other gentleman showed up at some point claiming to be Mrs. Naberrie’s husband. He and Mr. Solo consented to blood tests to determine if there was an actual relationship. Then you arrived.”

Fury nods curtly like he’s got everything under control. He doubts it, but he’s going to proceed as if he does; on Midgard, confidence is king even flying blind without the Force. “Dr. Tico, I need you to delete all evidence of those blood tests or convince your team that they were being tested on their ability to comply with your requests or, you know, speak up if your requests are stupid. I’m going to ensure that both Mr. Solo and Mr. Skywalker do not cause any further impediments to your ability to care for Mrs. Naberrie’s health.”

Rose acknowledges him and his conditions, and calls in the nurses to ready Padmé for her procedure. Nick is shoving Ben and Anakin peremptorily out of the room, so Ben bids Padmé a hasty goodbye and assures her he’ll be back to check on her after the scan. But Fury doesn’t stop in the waiting room; he and Thor hurry Ben and Anakin all the way out of the building, and then insist they get inside a large black SUV that’s parked in the valet zone. Agent Fury gets in the driver’s seat, while Thor, resplendent in his flowing red cape, heads back into the hospital.

“What the fuck,” Ben objects. “Nick, I’ve gotta be there for Padmé.”

“You can come back,” Fury responds. “Thor will greet her when she gets out of the scan. We just need to get some things straightened out first.” Ben and Anakin exchange glances of trepidation. It relieves Ben, somehow, that the awe he’s always felt around Agent Fury seems to be infecting this lunatic too. The guy must not be too out of touch with the real world. 

Just when he’s thinking that, Anakin flickers, then disappears. Ben jumps in his seat. “What the FUCK?!?”

Nick Fury glances into his rearview mirror, assessing the situation. “He gone? Interesting. This is all very new. Let’s go back to your house and I can try and explain.”

Ben realizes he’s trembling all over. “I hope it’s a fucking good explanation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Ben learns some very unbelievable truths from Padmé and Uncle Nick.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben sits down with two Jedi for some mind-bending revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had a great May the Fourth!

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_Somerville, Massachusetts. November 1, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Ben’s phone lights up with a text as they drive down Elm Street. It’s from Dr. Tico, whose number he’d gotten the night before in case she needed to reach him about Padmé. _The agent said to delete results,_ goes the message, _but thought you’d like to know the impossible relationship was positive._ She closes with a :O emoji. Ben shakes his head. This day just gets weirder and weirder. He deletes the message and stows the phone in his pants, wondering momentarily if Rey (the name brings a bit of warmth just thinking about her in his lap the night before) will be there. Then he remembers the cafe and realizes she’s probably covering for Padmé.

Nick Fury pulls up in front of the house, efficiently shoehorning his giant SUV into the little space available for public parking. Ben runs to open the door and grab the visitor permit, then he finds himself and Nick awkwardly standing around the kitchen drinking water.

Suddenly, there's the sound of unexpected footsteps in the front room. Of course, it’s fucking ninja Anakin. Ben sighs, then goes to grab a bottle of Scotch even though it’s still pretty early in the morning. He does have the courtesy to pour it into a glass before slugging it back instead of drinking directly from the bottle. He doesn’t bother to offer any to the two black-clad men standing in his kitchen staring daggers at one another.

“I know I run the risk of repeating myself,” he speaks up, “but what the fuck is going on here, Nick?”

The SHIELD director gestures to the couch and the armchairs. “I think we should get comfortable. This is something I’d hoped to avoid telling anyone in Padmé’s lifetime, but Anakin here had to screw everything up. Not for the first time.”

Anakin scowls and pushes a cat off the plaid armchair. Ben and Nick snag different ends of the sofa. They are usually comfortable around each other, but Agent Fury has always been a little cagey because of his profession, and Ben is steeling himself for the possibility that he might always have been a lot cagier than he seemed. 

“So,” Fury begins. “This planet you live on, this galaxy, this universe that scientists study and theorize about Big Bangs, all that: this is only one of ten known realms of existence.”

“Suuuure,” Ben sighs. “And the proof of this is…?”

“Your grandmother’s research,” Nick responds, smugly. “She’s actually the first inhabitant in the history of Midgard that figured it out.”

“Midgard,” Ben murmurs. “What’s that?” He’s thinking about the address on the letter in the silver briefcase.

“It’s the name for this realm. And for this planet, in the Asgardian tongue; the realm gets named after the planet where sentient life was first discovered. It’s just how the Asgardians do it. So they live on Asgard and their realm is Asgard; they named this planet Midgard when they found it tens of thousands of years ago, and they named the realm from it. I come from the realm Ieldraan; there the origin planet’s name shifted over the years, so now it's called Alderaan, but you can see the general idea.”

“Or, _was_ called Alderaan, when it still existed,” Anakin states in a neutral voice, looking out the window. Fury glares at him, muttering under his breath.

“So, you’re saying that I’d find information about all this in Nonna Padmé’s research? But of course, I’m not permitted to read it.”

Nick shrugs. “You don’t need to.”

“Agreed. What does it matter if I believe this insane mumbo-jumbo?” Ben gets up to pace around the room, but soon flops back down on the couch, looking sideways at his uncle and mentor. “Ok. Let’s just say I decide to believe this bullshit. Does every realm just have one planet with sentients on it? What does Thor have to do with this? And why the fuck are you telling me now after keeping me and the whole human race in the dark all this time?”

“Good questions. Like always from you,” Nick laughs mirthlessly. “So: More than one planet in most realms. Especially on Ieldraan. I’m from Haruun Kal in the Mid Rim, where you’d also find the planet Naboo. Your grandma lived there, and your grandpa here grew up on Tatooine in the Outer Rim. Total desert shithole.” Anakin shrugs, not disagreeing.

“And Thor? He from Ieldraan too?” Ben presses. 

“So you picked up on him being…not from around here,” Nick smiles. “He’s from Asgard actually. His family were the founding realm protectors, and are the greatest Force users in existence.”

“Riiight. Whatever that is,” Ben grumbles. 

“The Force is an energy that flows among all of us. On every realm except yours, certain individuals can manipulate the Force or at least sense its presence. Anakin here was one of the most powerful on Ieldraan; so was I.”

“So what happened?” Ben asks skeptically.

“Well, I was a Jedi Master, Mace Windu by name. I’d been serving as realm protector for Midgard. Anakin here cut my arm off and hurled me out the window of a mega-skyscraper to kill me and protect that piece of shit, Darth Sidious. After I managed to survive that, I had to spend more of my time here to stay under the radar of the Sith emperor and his right hand man,” Fury chuckles ruefully, but his eyes are still glaring fire at Anakin.

“Yeah, I thought you were dead for the last, oh, more than twenty years,” Anakin offers helpfully.

“That’s another oddity about the realms,” Nick mentions. “Time passes differently in different places. That doesn’t explain why Anakin looks so damn young though,” he turns his attention to the other man. “Nor why he can pass through walls. What’s the deal, _Lord Vader_?” His voice is acid and Ben can sense the adversarial vibe in the room.

Anakin shrugs. “I just wanted to see Padmé, and Luke had a theory that we could do it through Force Projection, an arcane technique he has been researching. First we tried projecting my Force essence to worlds that are powerful in the Force. We tried Asgard and it was a total bust. Couldn’t get me there at all. Then we tried the opposite theory: see if we can project a Force Ghost to a Force-weak world. It seems to be beyond a success. I wink in and out of existence pretty randomly, but when I’m here I’m really here, with a physical form and everything.” He stands, walks over to Ben, and claps a hand onto his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, grandson.” Ben shrugs him off.

“So let me see if I’ve got this straight. My grandmother, who is a highly reasonable astrophysicist, discovered that there were ten overlapping realities. On nine of them, some people can manipulate life energy to do…something. I dunno what. On ours, conveniently enough, people can’t. So, if no one here can use the Force, why is Anakin claiming he’s a Force Ghost? Shouldn’t he be unable to do anything if his existence depends on this weird Force that can’t be used here?”

“I’m actually being projected from Ieldraan by the combined efforts of my son, who’s your uncle Luke Skywalker, and my Force Ghost. And a couple other friendly Force Ghosts. No one individual would have the strength in the Force to sustain a projection like this, even though it's easier for whatever reason to send me to this Forceless realm than to another planet in our own realm,” Anakin explains.

“Wait, what? Your son my uncle…like, you want me to believe I have a biological uncle who lives in some alternate universe?” Ben grips his hair with one hand, pulling firmly as if pain will somehow wake him and return him to a normal reality.

Nick Fury nods. “Yes. You have an uncle who is a powerful Force user, a Jedi. Confusingly, because of how time passes in the realms, he’s younger than you at this point. You look like I’m hurting your head, Ben.”

“You really are,” Ben grumbles. “It’s completely insane. And it’s not even something you can prove, right? I just have to believe you.”

“No, we can prove the existence of the realms and of the Force. No one on Midgard can use the Force, but certain Force-sensitive relics retain their power to be wielded by a Force user even here. Mjolnir is one and my wayfinder holocron is another,” Nick explains.

“None of those words makes any sense to me,” Ben objects. “Can I see these things in action?”

Nick raises an eyebrow. “Your magically appearing and disappearing grandfather isn’t enough proof for you that there are powers at work beyond your imagination?”

Ben huffs and lets his head fall back on the sofa, swiping one hand across his face. “Ok, let’s say I believe your crazy tale, what does it matter? Why do I need to care about these other realms? Can't you just fuck off back there with your ghost bullshit?”

Anakin clears his throat. “Nick tells me Padmé wants to meet her son. And Luke ran into some sort of prophecy or vision or something telling him it’s super important to connect with his sister, so he wants to meet your mom.”

Here Nick cuts in. “I was trying to make it work for Luke to come here. Back when Padmé gave birth to the twins, the other surviving Jedi and I decided Padmé would be safest if she went back to Midgard. We let her take her daughter, but for a single woman with literally no relations in the 1960s to raise even one child here was going to be challenging, let alone two. So she agreed to let Luke be raised by his uncle, as long as his existence was hidden from Anakin and there would be a way for Luke to visit her when he became an adult.”

“Classic Joseph Campbell. Why did Luke need to be hidden from Anakin?” Ben wants to know. Maybe he can finally learn why Padmé has never, ever spoken of her husband.

Fury stares at the younger Ieldraanian until Anakin grunts a reply. “I’m not really ready to talk about it, don’t know if I ever will be. She believed I was trying to kill her. I don’t think I was trying to, but I probably could have killed her by accident. I was under the influence of the most evil person Ieldraan has ever known. He was a Sith Lord, which is an ultra-powerful evil Force user, and he turned me into one too.”

“Anyway,” Fury cuts in while Ben is trying to digest this half-assed confession, “Anakin here and his buddies demolished the entire planet that housed the wayfinder holocron Luke was supposed to use to come visit your grandma. So now, if Luke wants to visit, I have to run it by Odin, who is the king of Asgard and monitors all the coming and going between realms. He thinks the situation on Ieldraan is too tentative for Luke to leave, since he’s the last known Jedi alive other than me and I’m stationed here. But Odin was ok with Padmé visiting Luke instead. It’s my guess that Odin likes any ideas that reinforce Padmé’s connections with Ieldraan because they weaken her connections with Thor.”

“Wait, what?” Ben asks.

“Thor was your grandma’s first love,” Nick explains, while Anakin looks daggers from the plaid armchair. “Odin is his dad. He was not enthusiastic about his heir shacking up with a Force-less Earthling, so he was pretty happy when she found someone else.”

“Ok then…” Ben clears his throat. “You’re saying that my grandmother hooked up with two men who are both, apparently, ultra-powerful Force users and still my age? Is this that different speeds of time thing?”

Fury nods. “Yeah. Thor has spent most of the last fifty Earth years on Asgard, where time basically doesn’t pass at all. Anakin here…this isn’t what he really looked like all this time. You want to tell him, Skywalker?”

Anakin looks like he’d rather fight Fury with daggers than explain, but he sighs and begins to speak. “Right before Padmé fled, I got into a fight with my mentor on a planet made up largely of lava. He cut my legs off and shoved me in the lava to die. Then my Sith master showed up and outfitted me with prosthetics and life support in a crazy suit that made me look like a giant, intimidating cyborg. Which, I guess is basically what I was. After I returned to the Light and died, my Force Ghost took the shape I had when last I was not fully evil.”

Ben crosses his legs on the coffee table. “So what you’re telling me is you want my grandmother, and maybe my mom, to travel to an alternate plane of existence which is in some kind of tentative post galactic war period? A place where evil Force users can demolish entire planets.”

Nick nods gravely.

“I can see how that’s right up Padmé’s alley. If you aren’t delusional or bullshitting me, either of which options is way more likely. But my mom has some…issues. I’m not sure it’s a good idea. And it doesn’t sound terribly safe for Padmé either.”

“Odin hasn’t agreed to Leia coming anyway. I’d say it’s unlikely. On the off chance he agrees, what if we brought you along?” Nick asks carefully. “I’m sure you’d pick up the basics of shooting blaster rifles in about three seconds flat. You could reassure yourself of their safety.”

Ben sighs. “I’ve got a business to take care of. And it’s one thing to say my grandma can go visit an imaginary universe. It might be you’re just taking her to a secret SHIELD facility in Antarctica. It’s a lot bigger leap of faith to claim that I’m going to go to “Ieldraan” or “Asgard” myself.”

“I’ll let you know what Odin thinks,” Nick says, though Ben still looks thoroughly skeptical. “But we’ve gotta travel by next Friday, assuming Padmé’s well enough. Speaking of. Ben, let’s get back to the hospital and see how she’s holding up.”

“Yeah…yeah,” Ben agrees, running upstairs to run a brush through his hair. For drinking whisky in the morning, he doesn’t look too much the worse for wear. When he gets back downstairs, Anakin is gone. “He not coming with us?”

Nick grimaces. “Anakin and I do not get along, least not since the fucker tried to kill me. Anakin and Thor do not get along, because, Padmé. I’m sure he’ll be back to pester Padmé some other time, but for right now he made himself scarce.”

“Thank heaven for small mercies,” Ben murmurs, and locks the front door behind them as they head back out to the SUV.

* * *

When they get back to the hospital, a nurse brings them back to Padmé’s room immediately. Thor is sprawled in the chair, his hammer leaning against the wall next to him. Padmé is sitting up, drinking tea and chatting in a lively way. She stops when Ben and Nick walk in.

Ben goes right to her side as Nick shuts the door with a click. “Nonna,” he asks. “How do you feel?”

Padmé gives him a dazzling smile. “Right as rain, Ben. Dr. Rose said I passed the CT scan with flying colors, and Thor has been able to reassure me that I wasn’t hallucinating. Just like you said.”

Thor speaks up. “Yeah, Dr. Tico is working on the discharge paperwork right now. Padmé is encouraged to take it easy — no acrobatics this week — but has a clean bill of health.”

Ben turns to Thor, frowning as he walks over to the seated man. “I’m glad she’s well. Thanks for keeping an eye on her. But now—” and Ben looks back and forth between Nick and Thor pointedly, “I need both of you to get out of here so I can talk to my grandmother in private.”

“No,” Fury begins to demur, but Ben cuts him off. 

“You two and your freaky friend Anakin have a lot to do with why Padmé is here in the hospital to begin with.” Ben takes a last step forward, looming over Thor. “Take your spandex outfit and leave us alone for a while. I need to talk to my grandmother. I’ll give Nick a call when we’re ready to talk to you guys.”

Thor runs a hand through his lanky blond locks, grabs Mjolnir in his other hand, and stands to his full height. With boots, he’s exactly eye to eye with Ben Solo. He smiles charmingly, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and peers around the other man’s shoulder to wave farewell to Padmé. “Ben’s kicking us out, so I’ll see you in a bit, dearest.” Padmé rolls her eyes, but waves to him and Nick as they file out of the room. 

As soon as the door is shut behind them, Thor grabs Nick’s arm. It’s hard and metallic under his grip — he always forgets it’s a prosthetic. “Nick. You aren’t seriously thinking about bringing Padmé to meet Luke without her daughter, are you? She’s not very happy about that idea.”

The other man has his contemplative Jedi Master expression on. He shushes Thor with an urgent hand as they walk past the nurses’ station. It’s not until they’re standing out front of the hospital with a couple of sad cigarette smokers that he responds. “Yes. Odin objects to excessive inter-realm travel, and he still hasn’t forgiven me for taking Jane Foster to Ieldraan in the first place.”

It’s clearly not the response the blond man was hoping for. “My father needs to mind his own damn business!” 

They sit down on a bench, Thor fidgeting with the thong attached to the handle of his hammer. He sighs heavily. “Nick, I’ve only been on Earth for, oh, a couple months in total. You’ve spent years here.”

“Yeah, and?” the other man raises an eyebrow.

“Every time I’m here I feel like crap. Does lacking the Force feel that way to you too?”

“Well, part of me appreciates the…silence.” Fury has a faraway look, as if recalling times when the sounds of lives being snuffed out in the Force had jarred across his consciousness too harshly. “And as a Jedi Master, it is my duty to protect the Realms. But, yeah, it feels better to get back to Asgard or Ieldraan.”

Thor nods rapidly. “Exactly! So…imagine you were trapped here since birth.”

“Fuck.” Suddenly Nick Fury has a sinking feeling in his stomach. Leia Naberrie Solo is the twin sister of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, whose Force sensitivity was unmatched in his generation on Ieldraan. (Though this isn’t saying much, considering what proportion of the Force-sensitive population was wiped out by Vader and Palpatine.) The two are children of the Chosen One, for kriff’s sake. What had he done by bringing the other twin to Midgard?

Thor catches Nick's gaze urgently. “If we think Padmé’s descendants are Force-sensitive, it probably isn’t ethical to keep them away from the Force any longer, now that no one’s explicitly trying to kill them. I think we need to at least offer both Leia and this Ben fellow the option to come along with Padmé to visit Luke.”

“Think you can convince your dad of that?” Fury sounds dubious.

“This is what’s right. If he disagrees, I’ll take the blame.” It wouldn’t be the first time.

* * *

  
Back in the hospital room, Ben sits in the chair by Padmé’s bedside and listens to her account of the morning’s test. As she finishes, Ben has just one question.

“Did that Anakin guy ever come back?” he asks, keeping an eye on the machine behind his grandmother that’s still monitoring her pulse. It jumps momentarily, but not to a dangerous degree. So. She has strong emotional reactions to the name, as was obvious last night.

“No, not yet,” she responds. “I don’t think he and Thor like each other very much.”

“I’m not sure I like either of them very much,” Ben admits, “so I can see where they’re coming from.”

“Why not?” Padmé asks, turning her head to the side like a bird. 

“I can’t trust them. They have these completely ridiculous stories about intergalactic time travel and Anakin, I think, sometimes disappears and reappears. I feel like I’m out of my mind.”

“Sounds about right,” Padmé laughs. “If you want to get a lot deeper into quantum physics than you studied at Annapolis, I could try to explain the intergalactic time travel, as you call it, in terms that wouldn’t sound like mystical mumbo-jumbo. But I have no explanation for Anakin at the moment other than mystical mumbo-jumbo.”

Ben is staring at her, mouth hanging slightly open. Like, yeah, he knows Uncle Nick is intelligent. He runs a top-secret government agency with dual science and military missions, he must be smart. He’s also never let Ben down or told him something demonstrably false, even if that’s mostly because he declines to answer 90% of Ben’s questions at all times. But the possibility had lingered in the back of his mind that maybe Uncle Nick was wrong this time, or maybe he was trying to deceive Ben with a preposterous cover story.

Padmé though…yeah, she’s been under some stress and she might be overwrought, but she’s the most brilliant scientist Ben knows. If she tells him that intergalactic travel is real he kind-of…is compelled to try to believe that.

Fuck.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she offers, since he still isn’t saying anything.

Ben blinks and refocuses on his grandmother. “Well, we have, right? You tell me my grandfather is dead, but he’s also my age and magically teleports.”

Padmé frowns. “I guess I hadn’t thought of him as a ghost, but I see your point.”

“That’s what Nick was calling him, back at the house. Good old Uncle Nick, who apparently isn’t even from this planet??”

“Well, if you want to get into technicalities, neither is your mother.”

That shuts Ben up quick. He’s still pondering when there’s a peremptory knock on the door and Dr. Tico walks in.

“Rose! Lovely to see you, am I getting discharged now?” Padmé asks cheerfully.

Ben smiles half-heartedly and stands to get out of the doctor’s way. “Thanks so much for your excellent care of my grandmother.”

“No problem, please sit down. We’ve got some papers to go through,” Rose says, then takes a deep breath. “I also want to talk with the two of you about what happened yesterday. I’m concerned, from an ethics standpoint.”

“Concerned?” Ben tries to keep his face blank.

“Yes, I know Agent Fury may have very important reasons of state for insisting that I destroy a test, but it seemed odd,” Rose answers. “So I ignored him, only to find out that there is an immense probability that Mr. Skywalker is genetically Mr. Solo’s grandfather, as I told Mr. Solo yesterday. Which is completely inexplicable unless there is human cloning going on. And as someone who is extremely opposed to eugenics, I feel that the American public should be informed if government agencies are operating a secret cloning program.”

Ben and Padmé look at each other. It’s Padmé who speaks. “Doctor, I understand your point of view and applaud your stance. I can assure you that SHIELD is not doing human cloning, or at least if they are, Anakin has nothing to do with it. I’d like to get permission to give you a better explanation, but it might take me a few months.”

Rose simply has an eyebrow raised, patiently hearing her out.

“Doctor, how about this. Here’s my card,” and Padmé produces one from the little clutch purse on her side table. “Come by my cafe or my house six months from now, and I will answer everything to your heart’s content. And if you find that I’m wrong and there is cloning, by God I’ll help you protest it to Congress. And I used to work for SHIELD myself.”

Ben can see the surprise and respect on Dr. Tico’s face. She nods agreement and collects the papers he’s been diligently filling out, then the slow trip out of the hospital begins.

* * *

Dinner that night with the three of them is awkward to say the least. Rey serves vegetarian stew out of a crock-pot to welcome Padmé home, and it’s delicious, and she looks delicious too in her tightest jeans (Ben wouldn’t admit it, but by this point he knows all her pairs of jeans). But conversation stalls. 

Ben and Padmé are both itching to discuss Ieldraan, Anakin, and the possibility of Padmé traveling there for a month or two. But they can’t talk about it in front of Rey. Meanwhile Rey is exhausted from spending her normal off day at the cafe and she doesn’t have the energy to make conversation when all she can think about is the stone in her stomach of not knowing why Ben left the night before.

Before it’s even 8:00 she pleads homework and runs off, shutting herself away. Ben feels his heart drop. Why is she ignoring him and running away? Didn’t she enjoy what they did last night? Does she feel like he took advantage of her drunkenness? He wants to apologize, but when he taps very lightly at her door there is no answer, so he trudges back downstairs to sit with Padmé.

“So, Nonna. If you’re serious about leaving Earth, it seems like there’s two major conversations we ought to be having,” he says.

“Well, what are they?” she asks placidly, stroking one of the cats. 

“On the one hand, you have practical matters to deal with. Presumably last time around you were Nick’s employee, an unattached young woman with no family, right? So if you disappeared, the agency could manage your bank savings and you could make up some lies for your friends about visiting France or something?”

Padme smiles. “Not exactly like that, but yes. I had few responsibilities or connections. Don’t worry, Ben; I’ve already called my lawyer and we’re working up papers for the cafe, the house, etc. My will is already in order.”

“With more beneficiaries on it than are accompanying you on this insane jaunt?” 

“Of course, Ben. Now, does that mean you’re thinking about coming along with me? I’d love your help in persuading your mother.”

“Oh, God,” he groans. “Yes, I’m considering it, if Nick allows. But that leads me to the second conversation topic. If Nick — or should I say Mace — is letting you talk about Ieldraan now, I want to know _everything_. How you ended up there, what it’s like, what I need to learn in order to get by. Heck, you’re telling me I’m descended from a _space alien_ , maybe you could tell me what my family was like?”

Padmé is silent for a minute. “What you’re asking…it would take about a year to explain “everything.” And a lot of the big-picture stuff, Nick could explain better than I can. I’ll try though. For tonight, how about I tell you about Anakin and his family?”

Ben nods silently. It’s normal, he thinks, to want to understand your background. Where the people came from who make up your genetic history. He’s always gotten a whole lot of stonewalling, though. 

It’s time for some things to change. “I’m eager to hear anything you’re willing to tell, Nonna.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben learns some very unbelievable truths from Uncle Nick. And preparations are under way to visit a galaxy far, far away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Nick/Mace tells a story of the events of Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith. Someone dies, in a way you might not have been expecting. But it's not anyone you have (hopefully) gotten attached to in the course of this story. If it upsets anyone, let me know and I'll try to change the tags.

__

_Somerville, Massachusetts. November 2, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Ben always, always visits Café Nabú on Sunday afternoons, usually after his heavy lifting session at the gym. This week it’s getting late in the afternoon and he hasn’t appeared. Rey fears it’s for the obvious reason. Whatever happened on Halloween night, she _really_ fucked it up.

She waters the plants, then gets talking with Finn about the party he and his housemates are hosting on Thursday, as they do on the first Thursday of every month. There’s going to be a live band and the neighbors have been known to call the cops, so they’re trying to figure out how to bribe the neighbors into cooperativeness. The topic isn’t far enough from Rey’s own problems, but she always likes the parties, so she lends a friendly ear.

Just as she’s gotten engrossed in the conversation, the door chimes and Ben walks in, his hair disheveled by the wind. “I’m really looking forward to a very hot coffee,” he grumbles. “Did _not_ wear a heavy enough coat, damn.” Rey smiles politely and gets him his usual. He takes his customary table.

The last few Sundays, he’d beckon her over and they’d chat for her break, but today Ben’s face is drawn and he’s simultaneously tapping something on his phone and managing multiple tabs on his laptop, so she doesn’t intrude. Every now and then she catches his eye over the screen, though. He has a smile for her, but it’s hesitant. When he packs up and leaves before closing, it’s honestly kind-of a relief.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. November 4, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Ben is up early after another bad night’s sleep, this time haunted by visions of a slender creature hooded in black, her lips blood red. She’d pinned him down with invisible bonds, taking her pleasure from him mercilessly while he struggled to breathe. The damn mask again. His cock is throbbing when he wakes from the nightmare, but as he takes himself in hand it’s the sunny college girl downstairs whose tits he imagines covering with his cum. He barely restrains himself from moaning her name aloud when he spurts in his fist a minute later.

Awkward fantasies about housemates aside, being up early is useful when you have to call Finland. Ben cleans himself up and dresses for Skype (pomade; best black t-shirt; cruddy old cargo shorts). He wants to run some things past the two hackers who often collaborate with him. Heikki Tamminen joins the meeting first; he’s about Ben’s age, with a shaved head and pale eyes. He’s a zero-day researcher who goes by the handle “Tai.” “Voe” joins them a few minutes later, her cornrows, dyed prematurely grey, making a shocking contrast to her dark skin. Her actual name is Aino Suotamo, but there’s no evidence to connect that woman with the hacker who has been known to physically break into banks in the course of their security audits. 

“Morning boss,” Tai says teasingly. “Got a new job for us this week?”

Ben smiles ruefully. “Not exactly. It’s a bit bigger than that. You guys ready to take over the reins for a while?”

“Are you getting called up on reserve?” Voe is frowning. They had discussed this possibility back when Ben recruited them to work together. Both Finns had agreed that they could step up and take on his tasks, but Voe objects pretty strongly to the ethics of the U.S. military. 

“No, though I might as well be for how unreachable I’m going to be. An estranged relative died. He was a piece of work, and we’ve got to go tie up some loose ends,” he says, knowing that Tai and Voe can comb the ‘net for information all they want, they’ll never find anything. “Where we’re going, I won’t have access to reliable communication. I will send a message to my lawyer and accountant every month or two though. They have orders that if something happens to me, you guys will inherit a majority stake in the company. As long as I’m alive but away, you will draw your normal salaries plus split all the new business you bring in. I’ve prepaid the server hosting, liability insurance, all that stuff, so you just need to cover any special equipment you pick up or any contractors you bring on.”

“Sounds fair,” Tai says. “We’ll miss you though. The TED folks like you best.” 

Voe snorts at that. “True. When do you leave?”

“Not sure. Within the week?” Ben switches gears, sharing his screen. “While I’ve got you guys here, I wanted to talk through the plan for the Santander account.”

The two Finns nod, and business continues as normal.

* * *

  
Right after the lunch rush, when Café Nabú is as quiet as it’s going to get all afternoon, Padmé motions Finn and Rey to sit down with her at a round table. 

“I have some things I need to talk with the two of you about. It’s probably one of those “good news, bad news” situations,” she starts off.

“I always like to hear the bad news first,” Finn offers. Padmé smiles.

“Ok then. The bad news is that my friend Thor informed me of a…death in the family, when he was visiting last month. I have to travel to wrap up some family stuff. It’s a very complex situation in a very remote location, so I may be out of touch for six months or more.”

The two young people are gasping at her in shock. “You can’t…” Rey gasps out.

“The good news is that I’m surrounded by people I trust. I’d like to hand over the cafe management to the two of you on an official basis,” Padmé continues. “I understand if you need some time to think it over, and I’m happy to take charge of the changes that my absence would necessitate, like finding a substitute pastry source.”

Finn looks at her with intensity. “For my part, I will absolutely manage your cafe while you’re away,” he says. “I’ve learned most of the practical financials for running a small business since they aren’t that different from nonprofits, and it wouldn’t hurt to run an enterprise for a while to build the old resume. This would be a fantastic opportunity and I am _so honored_ that you feel like we’re up for it.” 

Rey is a little more hesitant, Padmé can sense. So she reaches over and pats her hand. “Rey, regardless of what you think about taking on cafe management, I hope you’ll take care of my bonsai. And the house. We can talk about that later, but it’s possible that because of the nature of the family situation, Ben may want to come with me.”

That sends Rey’s stomach plummeting into freefall. She’ll be all alone in that big house. Most of her life has been surrounded by supportive friends, a stoic adoptive father—good people. But there’s still the scarring from being left behind, left alone. First by her birth parents, whoever the hell they were. Then, though it was obviously no fault of his own, by Lorne dying, which led to the cascading series of events whereby Rey became, briefly, homeless. To be left by Padmé too was unthinkable. And Ben going might ease the current awkwardness of whatever happened last weekend, but it would also extinguish any hope that she could fix the situation.

This sucks.

But Rey is tenacious, and she knows how hard this must be for Padmé, so she swallows her fear down to think about later (or not) and nods slowly. “I can do that for you, Padmé. I’ll help Finn manage, I’ll train baristas, and I’ll be sure to keep involved even if I get hired to an engineering firm next year and you aren’t back. I…wasn’t planning to look outside greater Boston anyway.”

The old lady’s warm smile, tears in her eyes, is almost enough for Rey to forget her own sorrow.

* * *

_Logan Airport, Boston, Massachusetts. November 5, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Ben Solo strides across the tarmac toward the private jet, trailing a step back on Agent Fury’s left. He’s dressed in his second best black suit, with a slender black tie and a crisp white shirt. If he wore his best black suit, it’d be clear he was too well-dressed to be a SHIELD agent. This way, the uninitiated might just assume he works with Nick.

When Padmé explained the plans for the day, Ben had scoffed. But it didn’t take too long to persuade him. Apparently, Thor came through with permission for Padmé to bring Leia, and Ben if he wished, to Ieldraan. Ben agrees with Padmé that Leia will probably take any reason to get out of rehab, even if it means she has to agree to go on an expedition to a distant, dangerous, and possibly fictive universe. The challenge is the getting her out of rehab part.

For that reason, Ben is flying across the country today with Agent Fury. The jet is impressive in an understated way, and Ben envies the spooks their advanced technology. “Things weren’t this slick in the SEALS,” he comments to Nick as they take their seats — capacious tan leather bucket seats facing each other over a low table.

Fury laughs. “When you work with guys like Thor and Tony, they expect a certain lifestyle and don’t hesitate to help pay for it. Imagine you’d be the same way if you hadn’t moved in with Padmé before high school.”

“Tony?” Ben asks, in case it’s relevant. 

“Tony Stark? Stark Industries?”

The metaphorical lightbulb goes off in Ben’s mind. “Right. Forgot that guy had something to do with SHIELD. I think he knows my dad, but I’ve never met him.”

“Anyway, if you’re coming to Ieldraan you might learn some things about the Jedi, and then you’ll stop giving me hell for only having two outfits.”

“I’m getting the picture that being a Jedi isn’t that different from being a SEAL,” Ben says wryly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Agent Fury had seemed terrifying when Ben was a boy, but as an adult he is a pretty cool dude. And Ben can’t even count the number of times Uncle Nick has saved his ass from trouble.

Fury is gazing at him thoughtfully, as if trying to read into his soul. “The philosophy is a bit different, but the physical training is about as painful, from what I hear. Now,” he says, as the pilot turns off the seatbelt light and settles them at cruising altitude, “Padmé tells me you have been grilling her about Ieldraan.”

“Sorry,” Ben shrugs. The suit shifts and bulks up at his shoulders. He likes his best black suit a lot better than this one, which seems to have been tailored at some time when he was thinner. “I just want to know something about my family. She helped me understand Anakin’s life story a bit, but she said you would be the right one to ask about how she ended up on Ieldraan in the first place.”

Fury frowns. “I really hate giving out information on anything but a need-to-know basis, but it’s a reasonable question and I trust you, Ben. Just promise me you won’t talk about it with anyone on Earth but your grandma.”

“You have my word,” Ben nods.

Fury opens a small refrigerated compartment under one of the seats and takes out a couple of water bottles, tossing one to Ben. He cracks the other open and takes a deep swallow before he begins the story.

> _“The story really started for your grandmother in 1960, which in the Ieldraan calendar equates to 22 years before the Battle of Yavin. (Well, three years before the Galactic Empire, but Luke and his friends are trying to move away from that dating to something new for their New Republic.) I divided my time between Ieldraan, where I sat on the Jedi Council, and serving as Realm Protector for Midgard. Earthlings knew me as Agent Nick Fury, a founder of the SHIELD agency._
> 
> _“SHIELD at the time was very involved in the new space race, and I hired Jane Foster, your grandmother, because she was an astrophysics genius. She finished her Ph.D. at 23 and was doing research that I was concerned was going to lead to Earth discovering the other realms, which Odin had never thought was a good idea. Then lo and behold Thor showed up because of some family conflict on Asgard, and Jane figured it all out._
> 
> _“That would have been that, but problems were brewing in Ieldraan. The Galactic Republic had been involved in a war with the Separatists and the Trade Federation for a while, and we on the Council were worried about hidden Sith activity — those are the sort of dark Force users like your grandfather turned into. A few of the Galactic Senators were known to be under threat because of their dedication to the Republic and the Jedi, including Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo. She had once been the elected queen of that planet, so she always traveled with a sort of Secret Service: a couple of royal handmaidens who looked almost exactly like her and served as decoys._
> 
> _“Unfortunately, the attack on Senator Amidala’s life got lucky and took out not only the Senator but most of her handmaidens. Her pilot survived and brought in the Jedi to hush up what had happened until we could figure out why she was targeted and killed. Naboo also wanted us to install one of the surviving handmaidens in place of the Senator to avoid a panic. But there was a problem: the only remaining handmaidens were Force sensitive._
> 
> _“Now, I can see you wondering why that’s an issue. Senator Amidala was not Force sensitive. And we had to assume that the person behind the assassination was a Sith. A Sith would be able to tell the difference if we put a Force sensitive handmaiden in the Senate, and then she would be exposed. The situation looked pretty grim. But then I remembered something, though I cannot tell you how many times I have wished I could take this suggestion back and just see how fate played out without Senator Amidala. I remembered that Dr. Jane Foster, of Midgard, looked exactly like Senator Amidala and her handmaidens._
> 
> _“So I told the Council that I knew where to find a non-Force sensitive replacement Naboo senator, and I took my wayfinder holocron and busted ass back to Earth. I told Jane I had a very exciting mission for her where she could save lives and at the same time take some scientific readings in a different realm. She had been to Asgard once for a couple days, but that was Thor’s doing and she was very sick with the Aether, so she wasn’t doing a whole lot of astrophysics. I didn’t bother to get permission from Asgard, because the Jedi Council at the time, well, we felt we knew about as well as Odin how things should work. This felt like a priority. And maybe like fate, because why the hell would the Force have made these women look so alike otherwise?_
> 
> _“Anyway, your grandmother agreed immediately and she and I returned to Coruscant via the wayfinder holocron. The remaining handmaidens dressed her up like Senator Amidala, and I gave her an earpiece so I could prompt her on information she was supposed to know for the first couple days. That’s honestly all it took for her to figure it out because she is such a quick learner._
> 
> _“I thought it was pretty funny when I overheard one of the Jedi padawan learners, Anakin, talking to the Naboo Gungan representative and whining that she didn’t recognize him. He was all like, “She hardly even recognized me, Jar-Jar. I’ve thought about her every day since we parted. She’s forgotten me completely.” And I’m there snickering because of course she didn’t recognize you, she’s lived in an entirely different realm for her whole life! I should have noticed that he was obsessed with her already, which was not in accordance with the Jedi code of no attachments._
> 
> _“As it turned out Jane was pretty taken with this younger guy with amazing magical powers who was totally fascinated with her. I think Thor had been a bit distant and consumed with the responsibilities Odin gave him, so he didn’t really put her front and center. Anakin did, but it was pathological. That’s eventually how Palpatine — the secret Sith lord I was talking about — hooked him. He sent Anakin nightmares about his mom dying, then hired people to kill his mom. Then he sent him nightmares about Padmé dying, and told Anakin that the Sith had the power to save people from dying. Surprise surprise Anakin killed — or tried to, in my case — everyone he ever knew or hung out with, just to please that motherfucker and get him to share the secret._
> 
> _“Don’t get me wrong — Jane did a lot of good for the galaxy in those three years, and a lot of important scientific research when she wasn’t making public appearances as the Senator or sneaking off to get it on with your grandpa. She wasn’t just a damsel in distress. It was a close call, though, getting her out of there and back to Earth when shit went down and Anakin became Darth Vader.”_

It’s a lot to take in, Ben thinks as Nick takes a long drink from his water bottle. He wonders how much worse his nightmares would get if a Sith lord were sending them. Could they really get any worse? 

“Is there any whisky in that fridge?” he asks.

“You really want to spring your mom from rehab stinking of booze?” Nick asks. Ben sighs and looks out the window. He can’t even imagine what kind of a life his grandmother had led by his age. Her family killed, taken in by a hit man, genius at early college and a Ph.D., swept off her feet by a mystical hammer-wielding warrior from another planet. She’d published ground-breaking scientific research only the highest security clearances could access and then traveled to a different universe to impersonate a galactic senator-slash-queen. All he’s managed to do is assassinate a lot of insurgents and start a computer security company.

“Speaking of springing my mom,” Ben muses, “what are we going to do if Han finds out we’ve busted her out of rehab before we’re off planet?” He makes air quotes with his fingers for the words “off planet,” because there’s still a significant part of him that is not on board with the concept of Uncle Nick and his own mother having been born somewhere other than Earth.

“You got to cut that shit with the air quotes, man,” Fury is shaking his head. “You’re either on this expedition, helping me out because you want to protect your ladyfolks while they go meet your uncle in a galaxy you consider insufficiently safe. Or you can park your ass here and hope I don’t bring you in for a good old fashioned Jedi mind wipe.”

“Nick, I’ve been listening carefully to your stories. Unless Thor’s hammer thing has mind wiping powers I think I only have Earth spook tech to worry about.”

Fury scowls and raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can put my boot in your ass hard enough to delete your memories of our conversations about Ieldraan?”

Ben’s laughing now, shaking his head. “Ok, Uncle Nick, you win. I’m with the program. I will help you bust my mom out of rehab and take her to a galaxy far, far away. But I do want to know—how are we going to keep my dad from trying to stop us?”

“You have a good point,” Fury concedes. “Han Solo has a strong incentive to keep Leia in rehab again until she isn’t a danger to his business reputation, and he’s probably paying a fuck ton to the center so they aren’t going to want to give her up. My plan was just to play the SHIELD card and demand her release for secret government reasons, but they will probably tell him then and he’ll raise a stink.”

“Well, Uncle Nick,” Ben smirks, “it just so happens I have an idea. You have good encrypted wireless internet on this bird, right?” He pulls his laptop out of a briefcase and begins tapping away rapidly.

* * *

_Los Angeles, California. November 5, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Ben feels like they’re in Malibu before he realizes it. From the jet they transfer to a black SUV (of course) and soon enough they’re pulling up in front of the fake Tuscan villa that houses Chroma Wellness. 

Much to Nick Fury’s chagrin, Chroma Wellness’s Founder and Director, Dr. Phasma Chroma (DO, LCSW, CADC), is on site and greets them with an imposing and entirely fake smile. “Gentlemen. Won’t you come into my office,” she announces in a tone that brooks no disagreement.

“Gladly,” Ben answers in his calm, deep voice. “We actually had something to speak with you about that will be better discussed in private.”

Once they’re settled in the midcentury armchairs (Ben fucking hates Herman Miller, they’re always a bit too small for someone his size), Nick Fury opens with his gambit. “I’m Agent Nick Fury, with the SHIELD Agency. I’m here to secure the release of one of your patients, Leia Solo, to her family with our supervision.”

Dr. Chroma makes a face that’s supposed to convey sympathy. “I’m so sorry, but that’s not possible. We were engaged to treat Mrs. Solo until she is no longer at risk of relapse. We’re a medical facility and can’t comply with a directive that would not be in the best interest of the patient’s health.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand,” Fury responds. “The SHIELD Agency is taking custody of Mrs. Solo and we will ensure that her family maintains whatever rehabilitative protocols you prescribe. We will pay you the full lump sum remaining due to you for Mrs. Solo’s care for the next three months.”

Here Ben cuts in. “Speaking as Mr. and Mrs. Solo’s son, I can also assure you that the Agency and I will not be informing Han Solo of the change in Leia’s whereabouts. So if you would like to continue charging him for her care, that would be totally fine.”

Phasma laughs shortly. “Nice try, but that wouldn’t be very ethical and would make the center look very bad if it were to come out.”

“It wouldn’t.” Nick Fury is laconic beyond measure when he wants to be. Still, the center director shakes her perfect platinum coiffure in the negative.

“Well, I hoped not to have to do this, but…” Ben sighs. “Earlier today, there was a hack of your health data servers. The intrusion uncovered personal health information of all of your current clients plus many former clients who have made a payment on an installment plan in the last six months. Now, it would be very unfortunate for the reputation of your facility if news of the hack were to reach the public, don’t you agree?”

“That’s not possible,” Phasma hisses. “We have the best…”

Ben cuts in. “It’s possible. Trust me, I’m a computer security researcher. The job is just playing whack-a-mole with criminals. Now, I’d be happy to pass you all the information on the hack so that you can get your systems patched appropriately to protect your clients’ data. If, that is, you pass me my mom in return, and keep taking my dad’s money.”

If looks could kill, Ben would be stabbed pretty viciously in multiple places right now. “This is incredibly wrong,” Dr. Chroma hisses. “But you aren’t leaving me a lot of options. Take Mrs. Solo and get the hell off my property.”

“Nice doing business with you,” Fury smiles, pushing Ben out the door. “Whack-a-mole with criminals, huh?” he says to Ben as they make their way to Leia’s room. “What would we have done if you hadn’t been able to hack this place in half an hour?”

“Clearly not a question we need to worry about answering, Uncle Nick,” Ben smirks. “How long do you think it took me to hack SHIELD?”

“You didn’t.” Nick sounds certain, but he doesn’t…feel certain. Ben shrugs and smirks again, which isn’t the most satisfying response. Nick shakes his head, knocking at the actress’s door. 

Leia opens after a minute's delay, looking a bit disheveled. “Nothing like yoga for inducing unintentional napping,” she mutters conversationally as she opens the door to the two men in suits. Then she puts her glasses on and her jaw drops open before she breaks into a grin. “My Benny! You’re here! And Nick Fury of all people. Come on in, boys.”

Fury shakes his head. “Sorry, Leia, but we don’t have time for socializing. Ben and I are here to rescue you.”

“That’s going to go over real good with Han and Phasma,” Leia says skeptically.

“Don’t worry, Mom, I sorted it with Phasma,” Ben says, taking her suitcase down from the top shelf of the closet and laying it on the bed. “And Dad doesn’t have to know.”

“This is not what I expected was going to happen today, but what the fuck!” his mother exclaims, and starts throwing stuff into her suitcase haphazardly. “Let’s have us a road trip, Benjamin!” It’s a jet trip, but he’s not going to argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I am going to start confusing people with all the characters in this fic who have multiple names or identities. Here's the list so far:  
> Padmé Naberrie was born Mathilda Lando and changed her name to Jane Foster in college. She impersonated Senator Padmé Naberrie (Amidala) at the request of the Jedi Council. After returning to Earth she used the name Jane Foster professionally, but Padmé Naberrie with her family and after retirement.  
> Jedi Master Mace Windu is known as Agent Nick Fury on Earth/Midgard  
> Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader, but you knew that  
> Lor San Tekka was known as Lorne Sant' Ecca on Earth/Midgard  
> Regina Sant' Ecca changed her name to Rey Santé in college  
> Ben Solo has two Finnish hacker coworkers: Heikki Tamminen a.k.a. Tai, and Aino Suotamo a.k.a. Voe. (Any guesses what Ben's handle is?)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get some quality Rey time. Ben gets his first taste of intergalactic travel.

__

_Somerville, Massachusetts. November 5, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey gets home late on Wednesday, as she often does, and rummages around in the refrigerator for something to eat. It’s been a long day, with a morning class and the four-hour afternoon robotics seminar. The professor is great and the other students are all driven and engaged, but it’s just too long. Then she always grabs a quick bite before hunkering down in the engineering library to prep for her Thursday morning meeting with her thesis advisor. 

Now it’s nearly 11 p.m. and the house is quiet. Ben’s lights are on of course, she saw them when she got back to the house, but Padmé’s windows are dark. Rey wonders how her preparations are going for the trip she’s planning, and how soon they’ll be leaving her. She’s paging through Padmé’s _Economist_ and doesn’t expect it in the least when another woman pads into the kitchen distractedly.

Rey looks up with a start. She yelps, taking in the new arrival. The woman is quite petite, though a bit overweight. Many things about her appearance fit right in with the Somerville aesthetic: the fashionable and probably expensive cat’s-eye glasses, lightly grey-streaked shoulder-length brown hair stabbed into a messy bun, three-quarter sleeve sweater tunic. She just needs to put on a weird scarf, grab a cat and get on a vintage bicycle. On the other hand, she seems lost in a different way from the usual checked-out Somervillian of a certain age. “You surprised me. Are you a friend of Padmé’s?”

The older woman chuckles, opening and closing shelves like she owns the place but can’t remember where she put anything. “Not quite. I’m her daughter. You must be Rey. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Rey jumps up from her chair. “So nice to meet you, Mrs. Solo! Uh, can I help you find anything?”

“Tea, please, and call me Leia.”

Rey nods, even knowing that it might take her a while to call the well-known actress by her first name. “Tea. Coming right up.” She wonders what Leia Solo has heard about her, and from whom, but decides it doesn’t matter. 

Leia sits down heavily in a chair and taps her fingers nervously on the table. “I’ve had a long day or I would try to be more conversational. Ben and Nick — have you met Agent Fury?” Rey shakes her head as Leia continues prattling. “Anyway, they busted me out of rehab this morning. You should have seen the look on the wellness center director’s face as I waltzed out to freedom. Apparently there’s some “family business” we have to attend to. Will you be coming along? I’m just glad not to be in rehab, I’d gladly relocate to the Sahara or, I don’t know, a massive garbage scow…”

Rey smiles, shaking her head and pouring hot water carefully. “I’m not coming along, I’m not a family member obviously.”

Leia gives her a sidelong glance. “You’re not involved with my son?”

Rey chokes a little. “No, no we’re not involved.”

“Too bad,” mutters Leia before stirring her tea. She pulls a small vial out of a pocket in her trousers and dumps some small round pills on the table. 

Rey fixes her with a stare. “Not to be rude, but are you supposed to be taking those?” She knows direct confrontation isn't the most recommended way to interact with addicts, but she can't help herself. After all, she's pretty sure it was the drug trade that took her parents from her. Lorne would never tell her anything about them, so eventually she had tried logical deduction. She had a British accent; her guardian had a British accent and was into Eastern religion of some obscure variety; he was obsessed with self-defense; her earliest memories involved a desert landscape; and her parents had completely vanished in the late nineties. The idea that they, and Lorne, might have been involved in the heroin trade in Afghanistan until the Taliban started violently ending it was not the most preposterous conclusion she could come to. Anyway, she was not going to watch a drug addict who was supposed to be in rehab take drugs at her own kitchen table.

Leia looks at her blankly. “I…”

“Like,” Rey continues, “If Ben saw you taking those, what would he do?”

Leia frowns. “Flush them,” she says quietly in her low voice. 

Rey meets her gaze. “So, why don’t we? Flush them?”

Leia nods slowly. “I suppose I should try to be on my best behavior since they sprung me,” she sighs, and empties the vial into the trash before she can second-guess herself. “But then again, perhaps I need something more interesting than tea.”

Rey raises an eyebrow. “Is that a good idea?”

“I’m not an alcoholic, for whatever reason,” Leia shrugs. “So if you have some Scotch or Chardonnay, please hook me up with no fear of Ben getting pissed at you for feeding the bear.”

Rey half smiles and pulls out some wine glasses, filling one for herself as well as Leia. She puts the teapot and some sugar on a tray with two mugs just in case they end up wanting that too. “Would you like to chat a bit? I’m all wired up from my school work.” She thinks it’s probably good not to leave Leia unattended, at least based on what Ben's told her.

“That sounds lovely, Rey,” Leia smiles, and Rey can see how she charms theatrical audiences. Something about the way her smile emanates from her eyes just makes you want to do whatever this woman asks. “So. How did you end up renting from my mother?”

That’s…one of Rey’s least favorite topics on earth. But for the famous actress, for Ben’s mom, she’ll try. She takes a deep breath. “I was homeless. Do you want the big story or just from when I met Padmé?” 

Leia’s eyes open wide. “Let’s have the whole story. That must have been terrible.” She takes a sip of the chardonnay as they sit down in the living room, Leia settling into her mother’s wingback and Rey on the sofa.

“I grew up not far from here,” Rey begins, “Don’t really remember my birth parents, but my adoptive father tried hard. He didn’t have much money, but had me focus on my education. I earned a full scholarship to Tufts for engineering. He had cancer at that point, he’d foregone a lot of preventive care over the years. Around the end of my freshman year he died. 

“To add insult to injury, after he died when I needed to file the FAFSA and enrollment paperwork for myself for sophomore year, the university discovered that my identity documents were forged. There was no evidence of my real origin or identity, or even if Lorne was really my adoptive father or had, like, kidnapped me. Since there was no proof I was American, I was declared DACA and lost my scholarship. 

“I had made friends with some of my professors and they felt that this was unfair. I’d lived in Everett since I was 6 and had no memory of any other home. Through their efforts, I was able to get most of my scholarship back. However, it just covered tuition, fees, and books — not room and board. So I had no place to live but my little, beat-up Corolla, and no food.

“I was fortunate enough to get a job from your mother as a barista. It went really well, but at some point she picked up on the fact that I was always hungry and had no address or cell phone. She insisted I move in here to keep her company and the rest is history.” Rey smiles at Leia, who’s been an attentive audience. 

Leia nods contemplatively. “I think Padmé has a deep affinity for the lost. For people who are in really dire situations. I don’t know why.” _She never picked up on_ my _dire situation_ , she’s thinking, _because it wasn’t external circumstances. It was inside me_. 

Rey answers her, hesitantly. “She might be able to tell you why, now. She told me and Ben. You should ask her about what happened when she was a young teenager. She said she’d never told you before.”

Leia looks surprised. “Padmé was always a closed book to me. Good on you if you could get her to open up. Now. Benjamin tells me that Padmé had a boytoy here a few weeks ago, some bodybuilder named Thor. Can you fill me in on any gossip about my mother?”

Rey shakes her head, laughing. “I’m sure I don’t know more than Ben’s told you -- except maybe the part where Finn, the other barista at the cafe, spilled a smoothie on Thor to get him shirtless in the shop-- but I’m happy to try.”

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. November 6, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Ben lies splayed out on his queen sized mattress. It’s been a long couple days. Yesterday was the jaunt across the country and back with Nick Fury to pick up his mom. Today he’s been working in between babysitting her as she tries to pack all sorts of ridiculous shit since Padmé still hasn’t explained to Leia exactly where they’re going. 

Tonight, she’s promised to fill Leia in. He doesn’t want to be around when that happens, but he also doesn’t want to get up off his bed. Eventually, filial dissatisfaction wins out over exhaustion. He’s getting out of the building if it’s the last thing he does. He puts on a checked shirt, jeans, and boots, then grabs a waterproof jacket and jogs downstairs. Padmé and Leia are settling in the living room, so he’s just in time to make his getaway. 

Apparently, Rey somehow picked up on the vibe in the house because she’s there at the front door, leaving too. “Where you off to?” he asks by way of polite conversation.

“Finn’s having his usual party. Live band and stuff, should be fun!” she chirps cheerfully, though it feels a bit awkward.

Throwing caution to the wind, because what the fuck, tomorrow he’s supposedly leaving the planet, he blurts out, “Could I join you?”

The idea apparently glitches Rey, because she just stares at him for a minute. Eventually she speaks. “I thought you hated parties?”

He averts his eyes, shoves his hands in his pockets, shuffles his weight a bit. “I do generally hate parties, yes. But. I’m going away tomorrow for who knows how long so…maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much to hang out, do something stereotypically Somerville?”

Her eyes are steely when he mentions going away, but she nods tersely and he joins her as she leaves the porch and squints up at the drizzle. “I usually drive over and then don’t drink much. That work for you?”

Ben shrugs. “I don’t mind getting us an Uber.” After a moment’s pause, she agrees.

The party is not nearly as bad as he would have expected. The live musicians are talented at their instruments and the clientele is mostly grad students and employees of one or two highly technical firms. Not the stupid overhyped techbro types, the actual nerds. There’s a certain amount of posturing about homebrew and track bikes, shit like that, but nobody cares if Ben sits in an armchair to nurse his beer and stare at Rey as she circulates among her friends.

At some point, Finn recognizes Ben from the cafe and comes over to say hi. That’s about it. He doesn’t have to socialize the rest of the time. He’s grateful, just letting the friendliness and the music and the chatter and the…normal Boston-ness flow over and around him. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. At the least, it’s pretty likely to feel as foreign as Afghanistan. Hopefully the bathrooms will be better, but who knows, maybe in other realms they don’t shit any more? The food definitely will be weirder than Afghanistan, where the food can honestly be pretty good when you can get something other than MREs. 

He’s still zoned out with an empty beer bottle, thinking about the potentially life-changing weirdness he’s signed on for, when he notices that Rey is standing next to him. Talking to him, with her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. He shivers a bit, then looks up at her, trying not to look forbidding. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you. Anyway, Ben, I want to go home. You want to come with? We could get a ride share again or walk? It’s only a bit more than half an hour.”

It’s past midnight and the rain has stopped falling. He can escape from the smell of stale beer and sweaty nerds. That sounds like a good idea. He nods. “I’ll come with you. A walk sounds good unless you’re too tired.”

“No, I love nights like this,” she grins. It’s crisp and damp as they make their way up Beacon Street, past apartment buildings and houses, dark and quiet in the middle of the night. He shoves his hands deeper in his jacket pockets, stealing sidelong glances at Rey every now and then. 

“Rey,” he eventually manages to begin, slowing the pace of his steps. “I’m sorry. That Padmé and I are leaving you alone. For what it’s worth, I hope it won’t be for long.”

Rey looks surprised. “There’s no need to apologize. You have a weird relative, you have to deal with the aftermath, it’s life.”

Ben clears his throat. “You know what I mean. It’s a big house and even just asking you to take care of it, live there alone; it’s a lot. Plus the cafe and school…Padmé has a lot of confidence in you, and I know she’s right.”

Rey isn’t super impressed by his detached commentary. “Whatever, I’ll just miss dinner with you two. Padmé said I can rent out the guest room if I get lonely.”

“That’s a good idea, she mentioned that. I actually was thinking,” he pauses, “if you wanted to get more than one housemate… I know Padmé asked you not to rent out her room. And I’d rather you don’t put randoms in my room either. But if you want to move up to the third floor and just shove my stuff out of your way or in the basement or whatever, you could rent out your current room.”

“You think you’re going to be gone a whole year?” Rey’s face falls.

“I have no idea what this is going to be like. We’re hoping one or two months, but it could easily turn into six from what I understand. If I come back in six months and you need my room because yours is rented out, maybe I can just crash on the futon for a few days until I find my own place? I’m almost 30, one of these years I probably should stop living with my grandmother.”

“I definitely don’t want to do something that drives you away from living here. You can have the futon as long as you like if I've rented out my room,” Rey demurs. 

“Do consider taking over my space,” Ben insists. Eventually she nods. “I’ll miss hanging out with you, friend.”

“Me too.” They’ve drifted closer together as they walk, so now they’re shoulder to shoulder. Just the brush of his arm against hers…Rey feels burned by the electricity. She wishes she had the boldness, or maybe the drunkenness, to try kissing him again, but she doesn’t.

When they get back to the house, after coats are hung and shoes kicked off, he folds her into an awkward hug before stepping back, nodding silently, and retreating to his rooms. “Come back safe,” she whispers after him. 

* * *

  
_Allston, Massachusetts. November 7, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Ben’s never actually seen a play at the Publick Theatre, but that’s where he’s hanging out now for some reason, at 5:00 am on a Friday. Uncle Nick had loaded him, his mother, and Padmé into the black SUV which now stands abandoned in the parking lot, waiting for a SHIELD flunkey to pick it up. Nick will be traveling with the three Naberries to Asgard, or so he claims, and from there to Ieldraan.

The travelers have a manifestly odd assortment of luggage. Presumably Padmé knows best, since she’s been to the other realms before. Ben had seen her packing athletic shoes, underwear, her best jewelry, a journal and writing supplies, a bottle of Scotch, and a few dozen of her trademark almond cookies cocooned carefully in Tupperware. She sits perched on top of her suitcase holding one of her potted plants, one of the unusual ones.

Leia has two large suitcases and a look of wrath. She barely got to sleep, then they’re waking her up again, it feels like it’s 2 am, and she has no idea what to do without her smart phone. If Ben knows his mother, the roller bags are mostly full of clothes, but probably weigh eight tons each because she also has the collected works of Dickens or Proust in there. For Hollywood, she’s an insanely voracious reader. Ben doubts anything she brings will be remotely useful in an alternate universe.

For himself, Ben has his military-issue rucksack. He put a couple jars of peanut butter in the bottom like the stereotypical American he is, with some chocolate, cigarettes, and a bottle of rye in case they’re useful bribes. Running shoes after Padmé’s example, plus a light jacket. Boxers, socks, and tshirts like he saw Thor packed; presumably undergarments are personal in any universe. Essential hair care products, toothbrush and toothpaste. He brings a bare-bones laptop with a battery that he can recharge with a small folding solar array — hopefully the stars where he’s going have similar radiation output — or a hand crank. It’s loaded with his essential security tools and the photographs of the letter that had been addressed to Midgard and written in the weird script. The melted black mask, filched from Padmé’s armoire at the last moment because he thinks it probably belonged to his grandfather’s evil cyborg phase, fills out the bag. Take it back where it came from rather than leave it for Rey to find. He wears casual but sturdy clothes in all black with military boots and an indestructible analog watch that he always leaves set to the time at home. It’s just like deploying, but he has much less idea than usual of what to expect when he gets there.

After a few minutes Ben spots Thor coming up the path from the river. He’s still wearing the ridiculous get-up from Halloween, and hails them with a wave of his hammer and a cheerful greeting. The guy is annoyingly positive. He’s, like, as positive as Rey; Ben’s not sure why that’s a good thing on Rey and super annoying coming from the Asgardian. When Thor reaches their little conclave he nods at Fury, kisses Padmé on the forehead, and asks to be introduced to Leia. Then it’s showtime.

“Hold onto your luggage, friends!” he calls, beckoning Padmé to give him her silly little plant. He raises his hammer toward the sky and yells something that sounds like “Ready, Heimdall!” Then a sudden whirlwind picks up around them. Ben shrugs on his pack and pushes his way over to help steady his mother. It’s hard to fathom, but he thinks they’re leaving the ground, as if caught in a twister.

Thor looks at all of them approvingly and raises an eyebrow at the look on Ben’s face. Massachusetts drops away and they’re tunneling through...space? The speed cues are shocking, vertiginous. Ben is whipped by astral winds, surrounded by flashes of rainbow light. Below and above, a dark tunnel spirals away as they pass among countless stars. They could be traveling for a moment or for a year, he can't tell. There's nothing to ground him except the awed face of his mother, the settled, experienced expressions of Thor and Nick, and on his grandmother's face -- he could swear it's delight. Yes; Padmé is laughing. Swirling galaxies pass by in an instant. Why can he breathe? Why is he alive? Is he himself? And where? Until when? 

* * *

_Allston, Massachusetts. November 7, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey’s wiping down a table in the cafe that afternoon when Léon walks in, the door chiming its cheerful greeting. “Hi, Léon!” she calls out, straightening the chairs and heading to the bar to get him his habitual glass of milk. 

“Rey, carina, comé stai? Dov’é Padmé oggi?” the old man smiles. She shrugs, and it’s hard to hide the fact that she doesn’t feel quite as upbeat as usual.

“I’m a bit lonely is all,” she sighs. “Padmé isn’t here and won’t be for a while. She and Ben are traveling to some remote location to deal with some situation a dead relative of hers left behind.”

Léon frowns in consternation. “That is odd. Padmé — my dear Mathilda — she has no relatives, other than her daughter and grandson. Her whole family was killed sixty-five years ago.”

“Maybe it had to do with her husband’s family?” Rey suggests.

“She was never married under any of her three names. I searched all the databases for marriage licenses when I was trying to track down Mathilda Lando. I wonder where she has actually gone.”

“Well, even if she was never married, Leia obviously had a father, right? So, even if he and his family aren’t technically relatives, it might be she thought that was the easiest way to explain it to me?” Rey feels mildly uneasy, but is sure the grandmotherly lady did not intend to deceive her. Léon is just at that age where people can get a bit paranoid. And yet -- she had the feeling the trip might be dangerous, because Ben and Padmé had been practicing target shooting. 

Léon shrugs. "I'm sure Padmé will come back safe, she always does," he says reassuringly. Rey wishes she knew where Padmé and Ben were. Waiting is bad, but waiting and not knowing what’s happening to someone you care about— that’s much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the last in the first, Earth-centric act of this fic. Starting next chapter it gets a lot more complicated because I have to keep track of people in multiple realms all the time! Hopefully it will also be fun.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Solo gives Force sensitivity zero stars on Yelp. 0/5 would not recommend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the longer than usual wait for this chapter. I like to have the next chapter written fully before I post one, and Ben's early Force training and encounters with aliens stalled me. 
> 
> I hope you like the Original Trilogy characters, because many of them (and a few prequel & sequel friends) have been waiting very patiently for their turn in this story.

__

_Bifrost Bridge. In the Reign of Odin Allfather_   
_Asgard_

The spans and gears of the Bifrost wind down their oscillations, delivering a group of people into the control room. Heimdall nods his welcome to two familiar faces: Master Windu and Thor. Next he spies a face that, he realizes, is familiar even if it seems otherwise. 

Heimdall recalls the moment Thor first brought Jane Foster to Asgard. Much has happened, since. Although time stands still on Asgard, on Midgard many years have passed, such that Heimdall barely recognizes the young woman in the slender old lady he now sees before him. He bows at the waist. “Dr. Foster. Welcome; I did not expect you would visit again. And who are your companions?” He straightens, directing the question broadly at Jane, Thor, and Mace. Because the other two are an enigma.

The man is large, like a pale, raven-haired counterpart to Thor. He’s young like Thor and blazes violently with uncontrolled Force energy. He looks stunned, and as Heimdall watches, cringing, he staggers to one side of the room, falls to one knee, and vomits on the floor.

The woman is tiny, shorter even than Jane Foster and rather reminiscent of her in many ways. Her figure is softened by middle age and her Force signature is strong, dark, and compelling. It too is rather uncontrolled, but she seems to be handling her initial arrival on Asgard better than the man. She falls down into a seated position, giggling.

“Oh my God, what a trip!” Leia exclaims to anyone who will listen. “That was, like, the most amazing acid experience of my life and I feel fucking incredible! I think I can taste my mind. Benjamin, can you taste my mind? Isn’t this like acid?”

“Mom, I have never done acid for this very reason,” Ben says, staggering to his feet and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand with a grimace. “I did take amphetamines once on order of my superior officer, but then I almost murdered the little a-hole, so that didn’t happen again. Ugh,” he scrunches his face up as if against a bright light, “what the fuck is with this place? And Mom, can you please stop being so loud about how the golden armor guy should jump your bones?”

“I didn’t say that out loud. I didn’t. Did I?”

Mace Windu shakes his head. “Thor, this is like herding younglings but they’re adults. It’s a nightmare.”

“What did you say, Nick?” Leia’s grinning at him.

“Leia, it seems Thor’s guess was right. You and Ben are both Force sensitive. The problem is that you’re totally untrained, so…” and here he stops speaking, instead concentrating on projecting an idea directly to her mind, loudly: _we can hear your thoughts_.

Her eyes open wide and she stops grinning. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs.

“What?” asks Ben. “Oh,” he says in surprise, when Thor performs the same trick on him. “So what I thought my mom was saying…she was just thinking that? Wow, this is messed up.”

“I can train you to control it,” Mace assures him. “Or at least…I hope I can train you to control it. The oldest a Jedi ever started training was your uncle, when he was about 19. You and your mom have some disadvantages that way.”

Here Padmé cuts in. “I have faith in your training, Nick. You were able to help me establish a basic mental block, and I was in my twenties and as Force sensitive as a donut. I’m sure Anakin’s descendants can learn to control their abilities. I’m just shocked that my descendants — Earthlings — _have_ abilities. Now, before poor Ben gets too comfortable on his two feet, we have a second leg to this journey, do we not?”

Mace nods and Ben groans. Thor consults with ever-professional, ever-impassive Heimdall, then makes his farewells, kissing Padmé on the cheek. “Have safe travels, and may the Force be with you all,” he says as the Bifrost spins into action once again to transport Mace, Padmé, and her two descendants to Chandrila and the capital of the New Republic.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 After the Battle of Yavin, Month 5, Week 3, Day 1 (5.5.3.1 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

The strange flashes of light cease, the winds die down, and the four travelers materialize in a deserted square where the buildings of Hanna City give way to suburbs and then fields. Ben staggers as he feels solid ground beneath his feet again; he’s not able to enjoy the ride like his mom apparently can. The place where they have now arrived is much more to his taste than Asgard, though.

For one thing, his senses aren’t being assaulted as strongly by awareness of all living things in a however-many-mile radius. Either Hanna City is less densely populated than Asgard’s capital, or the people here are Force sensitive at a much lower rate. He reminds himself to ask Nick to explain.

It’s also human-scale. There’s a pleasant breeze, warm sunshine, buildings a few stories tall in cool tones, flowering shrubs. Unlike his brief view of Asgard, which was ornate and colossal and perched high above some kind of abyss.

“What now, Nick?” he asks. 

The older man smiles wryly. “Glad you’re not puking your guts out any more, Ben. But try to call me Mace or Master Windu while we’re here, ok? A friend of mine should be here any minute to help you get settled. Luke is off-planet, and should be back in a day or two.”

Soon a man appears, walking with long strides down a narrow stone-paved street toward them. Even moving swiftly, he carries himself like a king. Deep green robes billow around him under an asymmetrical grey vest. His deep olive skin is set off by a neatly trimmed white goatee. His physique is powerful, even though the lines around his eyes would suggest he’s nearly Padmé’s age. A golden android that reminds Ben of the Tin Man from _The Wizard of Oz_ clatters a ways behind the man, struggling to keep up.

Ben bends to speak sidelong to his grandmother. “Friend of yours?”

Padmé gives a little surprised shout and runs off to greet the man with a tight hug. Leia looks up at Ben. “How’d you guess?”

Ben smiles. “I guessed because Rey pointed out all Padmé’s friends are really tall dudes.” His smile fades, wondering how she’s doing back home.

“As a mother, it’s quite convenient being able to tell what you’re thinking right now,” Leia smirks. “She is a nice girl. You should ask her out when we get back home.”

Ben blushes, scowling, and growls incoherently. “Stay out of my head, Mom.”

“I think we both need a teacher,” she mutters. Ben nods and they both turn their attention to the man who has returned to their group with Padmé. 

“I’m Senator Bail Organa, Viceroy of the Alderaanian Diaspora,” he says, bowing slightly at Leia, then Ben. “Master Windu, lovely to see you again. Commander Skywalker asked me to welcome his family while he was away, and I am only too glad to play host to a dear friend like Padmé.”

“We’re honored, Senator,” Leia responds politely. “I’m Leia Naberrie Solo and this is my son, Ben Solo.” Ben wonders how she sounds so together now compared to three days ago. Presumably life as an actress and accompanying Han to corporate events has prepared her to handle any formal occasion up to and including meeting viceroy-senators (at least, if she’s sober).

“A pleasure to meet you. Please, accompany me to my house,” and he turns and guides them back down the street, taking the potted plant from Padmé with a smile. The golden android is struggling with Leia’s luggage while chattering incessantly at Padmé. 

“See Threepio, I agree that our reunion is as delightful as it is unexpected, but I hope you will wait until I can be sure my daughter and grandson are comfortable in Senator Organa’s home before we really get to talk,” she says.

The droid straightens its posture, looking more at ease now that it has been reminded of the etiquette of the situation. “Quite so, Your Majesty. Please let me know how I can be of assistance in their acculturation process.”

Ben is astonished by the robotic man’s accurate expression, realistic British accent (where’d _that_ come from), and reasonably competent motor control. He’s never seen anything like it. Until, that is, a few minutes later, when they reach Organa’s townhouse and are welcomed by two more droids of diverse shape and function. 

Mace explains the plan for the day. “Bail has arranged to set you all up with appropriate clothing. We’ll have some food and determine what the official story is on where you guys come from. Then you can meet a few more friendly faces.”

Bail smiles at Padmé. “Some of your old gowns survived the war in archival storage on Naboo. I’ve borrowed them just in case. As for your daughter and grandson, Ben looks like he would fit in much of my wardrobe from when I was a little thinner. I’ve asked my assistant Kaydel to bring a tailor droid just in case any of you need it, and she can start with you, Leia.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. “All due respect, but I’m not sure I need to be dressed like a viceroy or senator. I’m a simple businessman, ex-military. Maybe something more utilitarian?”

Mace intercedes. “I think you underestimate the extent that 21st century America is an unusual society in the history of the ten realms, Ben. Your life is extremely casual, all the time. Here, unless you decide to actually become a Jedi or, like, a street sweeper, you will need a full range of attire and it makes very specific statements about how you relate to the people around you. Even Jedi need formalwear. So, you should accept the senator’s loan until we can decide what your role in this society is.”

“The Rebel Alliance is rather casual,” Bail allows. “Plenty of utilitarian pockets. I’ll start you off with that gear, no one will give you a second look around town. But you should also try on the formal robes; it’s likely we’ll do some sort of formal event for Padmé’s return from exile.”

“I’m looking forward to this, actually,” Padmé cuts in. “Though getting the dresses from Naboo was probably unnecessary. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re from the actual Queen’s reign. Stuff that’s suited for a teenage queen is certainly not appropriate for a grandmother!”

“Naboo winter fashion is timeless, my lady,” Bail asserts. “But you may be right about the gauzy ones.”

At this point Kaydel, a perky blonde with an odd hairstyle, arrives. She brings along a droid that gives off a vibe like a garbage can that had a baby with Edward Scissorhands. Leia looks at it with trepidation, shrugs, and goes off to meet her fate.

* * *

  
_The Millennium Falcon. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 1 (5.5.3.1 ABY)_   
_Near Ord Mantell/Ieldraan_

Night cycles into day on this ship at the whim of its captain, erstwhile Alliance General Lando Calrissian. So while the dark and silence seems absolute, Luke knows it’s time to get up for his morning meditation. He smiles and stretches his bare arms like a panther. Underneath his torso he feels the seductive slide of silk sheets. It would be too easy to just roll over and enjoy the warm embrace of the man next to him, but even in Luke’s reimagination of the way of the Jedi, that’s just what it would be: too easy. Nothing great in the galaxy was ever accomplished by lounging in bed all day. 

So he sighs and lifts slumbering Lando’s arm off his waist, slipping out of the bed and into his casual clothes: lightweight woven trousers, a tight sleeveless shirt. He drinks some water from his flask once he senses it on the floor next to the bed, under a cape. He makes his way from the room silently, wishing he had ingested less alcohol the night before — though, compared to Lando and Chewie, he’d been positively abstemious. 

When he makes it out to the common area, Luke sits on the floor near the dejarik table. He’s impressed by how not-disgusting it is; the cleaning droid (a stolen Imperial mouse droid that Luke had modded into a gift for Lando) must have gone to work after they went to bed. He closes his eyes, extends his hands palm-up over his knees, and reaches out into the Force. He takes deep breaths and releases the negativity of his hangover into the great energy that surrounds him.

The Force has shown so much to Luke. Most recently it’s gifted him with a friendship with his redeemed father’s Force Ghost, and with mysterious visions. But each day this week, Luke has been hoping for even more. Thor, the mysterious Force user, has assured him that his mother is coming to meet him. He knows she’s not Force sensitive, but he’s hopeful that he’ll notice…something. It’s still going to be a day or two before Lando can wrap up his “business dealings” here and take him back to Chandrila for the rendezvous.

Luke continues to reach out, taking stock of the familiar life forces around him, of the bright landmarks in the sky of his intuition. He’s still meditating — it’s probably an hour later — when he feels it. A sudden shock of something so familiar fitting into place, as if when the medical droids went to attach his prosthetic hand they had instead refitted his very own hand. A sudden surge rushes through his body, energy dark and light. Familiar. Familiar.

* * *

  
When Lando rolls out of bed as the artificial dawn glimmers in the captain’s cabin, two hours after Luke left his side of the bed to cool, he smiles and shakes his head. He pulls on a silk shirt, trousers, vest, cape, and pointy slippers, washes his face, and styles his hair and mustache before wandering out in search of caf and the beautiful Jedi boy he’s trying to romance. He finds Luke first: levitating half a meter over the dejarik board. Lando lets out a whistle.

“Damn,” he whispers, and wanders on toward the galley for the caf. Or maybe three cafs. He knows Luke is strong, but the uncanny stuff never ceases to surprise the smuggler, who’d thought he’d seen everything. Sipping the hot, bitter drink, Lando considers the situation. The previous night, they stayed in, since Luke always seems on edge when they go out to bars and casinos. Even on the Falcon, the boy drank little, and then he had the gall to interfere with Lando’s cheating at sabacc using the Force. If it weren’t for those big blue eyes and that shaggy hair and, stars, those abs, the writing would definitely be on the wall. It might be anyway. Lando sighs.

There’s a crash from the common room. Luke must have just noticed he was levitating. Lando takes the caf and moves out there. “Lando!” Luke exclaims, breathless with excitement. “My family is here! I felt them!”

“That’s great, Luke,” Lando says with sincerity. “Let’s wrap up on this dump and go meet them.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“No problem, Luke,” Lando swallows. “We should talk, though.”

“Talk?” Luke’s brow furrows petulantly. “What about?”

“You and me, buddy, you and me,” Lando sighs. “Our lifestyles…now that we aren’t fighting the Empire anymore, we don’t have a lot in common except the hot sex.”

Luke frowns. “That’s no reason for us to change things. I’ve grown to care about you, Lando.” He clasps the older man by the shoulders, looking up endearingly into his sparkling dark eyes.

“I care about you too, Luke. But part of that is knowing when to let someone go free. I think we each need to be honest with ourselves that we have, well, highly divergent priorities.”

Luke hangs his head. He knows Lando’s right; he can feel it. As much as he might want the smuggler-general to take an active part in the rebuilding of the New Republic, Lando loves action and excitement a lot more than he loves noble causes. He and Chewie will be much happier if they can wander freely, not spend a lot of time in meetings. And Luke knows it’s his responsibility, his destiny even, to remake the galaxy his father took such a large part in destroying. A destiny he can’t fulfill from smoke-filled sabacc halls and Hutt palaces.

“Hey, don’t get too down about it, buddy. I’m not saying I won’t drop by your New Jedi Temple for a roll in the sheets every now and then, eh?” Lando grabs Luke’s chin gently, tilting his head back up. “And you have to promise me you’ll call up the _Millennium Falcon_ any time you need a ride, if you know what I mean.” Lando winks, because obviousness is part of his charm. “Now, let’s not spend our last few days until I drop you with your family moping, ok boyfriend?”

Luke smiles, and it’s like stars rising. They meet in a kiss, only to be interrupted a minute later by a grumpy, yowling Wookiee charging through the room.

“What’s that, Chewie?” Lando asks. “Transmission from Senator Organa? Okay, okay. We’ll be there in a second.”

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. November 8, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Now that she’s a manager, Rey doesn’t have Saturdays off from the cafe anymore. She gets up early, feeds the cats, and makes a cup of tea to tide her over until she can get in to the cafe. She eats some toast, a fried egg, and a banana, which is more effort than she usually expends on making breakfast. Then there’s time for a few tasks around the house before her shift. Today she puts all the towels in the washing machine, cleans the litter box, and makes a grocery list. When she goes to water the plants, she notices that one of the unidentifiable plants Padmé keeps in the front room is missing. It was the one with the pointy red petals, many prominent pale stamens, and pleasant aroma. Maybe she moved it to the cafe? 

At Café Nabú, Rey is soon joined by Finn, who brings the panini and starts stocking the display case. She’s so glad to see him, she immediately gives him a big hug. He laughs. “Whoa, Rey, what’s up? You ok?”

She shrugs. “You can’t imagine how lonely that big house is when it’s just me and the cats,” Rey admits. “What are you doing when you graduate and your lease ends next month? Are you staying with Iñez and Ari?” 

Finn smiles, but it’s wistful. “I wish. That apartment has been the best for our parties. But Iñez is moving in with her boyfriend and the landlord wants to raise the rent a lot, so Ari and I were thinking about looking elsewhere.”

“Do you want to move into my guest room?” Rey asks eagerly. “Padmé said I could rent out rooms while she’s gone. There’s space for Ari too if he’s interested.”

“He wouldn’t want to move out to Davis, but he was debating getting his own place anyway, maybe moving somewhere on the green line to make it easier to get to work. But I would _absolutely_ be interested in renting from you, Rey! We’ll work out the details, but consider it done.”

Rey smiles, running a test shot on the espresso machine, which has finished its warmup rituals. “Excellent. Now I have something to look forward to!”

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 1 (5.5.3.1 ABY)._   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Night fell hours ago, but Bail Organa is still in conversation with Mace Windu on his balcony. The first-time travelers from Midgard retired earlier, exhausted by their interstellar experience. Padmé just went to her room a few minutes ago after many hours of intense catching up with Bail.

“Well, what do you think, Bail? You’re the one who’s been here on the ground the last 25 years. Do you think our story will fly?” Mace asks.

The other man looks thoughtful, but also at peace. “I don’t know if people will buy that Padmé has been stuck on some weird planet where people age really fast, or that Leia and Ben are Luke’s cousins, but telling everyone about the ten realms is off the table, right?” Mace nods, scowling. He’s never liked how Odin controls information about the realms, but there could definitely be worse rulers.

“You know, Mace,” Bail continues, “There isn’t a day of the last 25 years I haven’t second guessed the decision to split up Anakin and Padmé’s children. It’s been hard, being the only person on Ieldraan outside the Jedi order who knows that, well, that Ieldraan is even an entity. That there are realms outside our galaxy, not just “wild space.” It’s been lonely. And I didn’t hear from you or Obi-Wan very often, so I just had to hope that the twins and Padmé, the hope of the galaxy according to those weird prophecies, were okay.

"Then one day, there I am in a cell block on the Death Star, my planet, my wife, my whole society, blown to dust — and who opens the door in an ill-fitting stormtrooper costume but Luke Skywalker of all people, come to rescue me. Talk about fate.”

Bail pauses, looking out over the lights of the city. “I think now I have more hope than I've had in a long time. Certainly more hope than I’ve had since Anakin fell. With both their children here, maybe we’ll see a fulfillment of the prophecy. The dyad, and balance in the Force. I wouldn't be surprised if Padmé and her grandson have a role to play, too. How do you feel about training the Solos?” Bail takes a long pull of his drink as he looks at Mace inquisitively.

Mace smiles. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had a padawan?” He shakes his head. “I’m just the stopgap. Keep them from going insane till Luke gets here. Then they’re his problem.” He clinks his glass to Bail’s. “Here’s to this crop of Skywalkers being less drama than the last one.” They drink. 

* * *

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 2 (5.5.3.2 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Ben sits in the center of the floor of his spacious bedchamber in Senator Organa’s house and does the weirdest fucking yoga he’s ever attempted in his life. The pose is reasonably similar to the lotus position, he’ll allow that. The diaphragmatic breathing, the being one with the universe crap, whatever. It’s the mental exercises Uncle Nick — sorry, Master Windu — has recommended that are confounding. 

First Ben must reach out. Not physically. Spiritually. He doesn’t really need to reach out in order to feel all the crazy life forces around him; they’re breathing down his neck, shouting in his ears, blinding him. So step one is not hard. Step two involves silencing unwanted inputs, and this is where it gets tough. Ben needs to envision building literal, physical walls inside his mind that will keep in information like “I’m thinking about Rey” so his mom doesn’t hear that. And simultaneously it’ll shield him from the unwanted external stimuli like “someone next door is having sex with a robot.”

At this point he’s thought about Rey, robots (hence Rey), and sex, all in the space of a moment, so his walls start to crack and crumble in his mind. More training. He can do this. He’ll do some burpees, then stand on his head while doing the weird mental exercise. Maybe that will help.

It doesn’t.

Eventually Nick — no, Mace — knocks at the door and Ben opens hurriedly, relieved to be rescued. Mace shakes his head, looking at his disheveled protegé. 

“You’ll get it eventually, Ben. Jedi normally took years to learn this stuff. And hey, once Luke gets here, you can try some of the more physical stuff. Lightsabers and that shit. I promise you, it is more fun than building walls in your mind.”

Ben shakes his head. “I’m tempted to just go back to Earth. Having mystical powers sounds all well and good, but I feel like I’m going nuts. I’m constantly hearing other people’s thoughts, so I’m confused when someone actually talks to me.”

Mace looks at him understandingly. “It’s not easy. I will keep telling you that. Whether it’s worth it or you should give up and head home — well, that is up to you. Having these skills will not do you any good back home. But they might make the difference of life and death to protecting your mom and grandma here.” Ben swallows, nodding, as Mace continues. “Maybe your mom and Uncle Luke will put everything in order and she and Padmé will be safe as houses, even without you here. Maybe they won’t. What does your gut tell you?”

This is something Uncle Nick has always been on about, ever since Ben was a little boy being sent off to boarding school. “Trust your instincts, Ben,” his Nonna’s gruff friend had advised him. “If something bothers you about the teachers, or the other boys, and it feels like they want you to make bad decisions, just call your grandmother, ok?” It was Han and Leia’s stupid idea to send him to that school, but it was Padmé and Nick’s efforts that got him out of it when everything went to shit. And Nick — Mace — had been right. Sometimes, you have to trust your gut.

Here, his gut is a little confused. But instinctively, it makes sense to stick with his family in this weird other world. He sighs heavily. “I hear you. I’ll keep trying. Damned if I don’t miss Earth, though.”

Mace gives him a big smile. “To each their own, Ben. But I bet you’ll get used to it here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering how Bail is alive in this universe where the Empire was overthrown without Leia or Han's involvement:
> 
> Bail Organa survived the destruction of Alderaan because, without an intrepid Rebel daughter, he had to run his own "diplomatic missions." So imagine Bail getting into most of the same scrapes Leia got into in A New Hope, just with less snark and sexual tension.
> 
> Meanwhile, since there's no Han Solo on Ieldraan, Lando kept his beloved ship. Some years after hiring capable Wookiee copilot Chewbacca, they happened to be in Mos Eisley cantina. They were hired by Ben Kenobi and Luke to take them to Alderaan, where Luke would find the wayfinder holocron he needed to visit his mother upon coming of age. Finding Alderaan destroyed, they were caught in a Death Star tractor beam and teamed up with Bail Organa to escape.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé & co. settle in on Chandrila. For the matriarch it's a delightful reunion. For Ben and Leia, it means coming to grips with giant lobstermen, bantha yogurt, and Force training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I told someone in a comment that Han was coming in Chapter 13. Unfortunately Chapter 13 ballooned over 6k words and I chopped it in half. Han's part ended up in what's now Chapter 14. Sorry!

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 2 (5.5.3.2 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Leia descends the stairs from the private chambers of Bail Organa’s house and finds Ben and Agent Fury — Master Windu, now, she supposes — sitting at an oval dining table. Ben is looking thoughtful while chewing something; probably a bite of the strange purple fruit that’s sliced on a plate in front of him. 

“Morning, boys,” she calls, though it seems from the height of the sun that it’s probably nearly midday. Something had dampened the sensory overload of Force sensitivity enough for her to get an amazing night’s sleep, so she only now finished the meditation exercises Mace had recommended. She’s hungry.

“Master Windu, you're the current expert on converting between Earth and this place, right? Do they have anything similar to yogurt here? For my diet,” she sighs. Mace nods abruptly and signals a droid. A minute later a bowl is deposited in front of her.

“Why is it…blue? What flavor is it?” she asks, lifting the spoon tentatively (thankfully, it seems like a normal spoon). 

“It’s plain. From bantha milk. Bail has it on hand whenever Luke is coming to visit, because the kid grew up on a farm and loves everything dairy. Give it a try. If you don’t like it, I’ve put out quite a few different things for Ben to try.”

Leia tastes the blue substance gingerly. The texture is right for yogurt, but the flavor is off a bit. It’s like the normal sour aftertaste of plain yogurt has been replaced with a sour…beefiness. “Hm. Can’t say I share Luke’s taste for the stuff. What else do we have here?”

Ben points out some fruits, pastries and cured meats and tries to describe what Earth foods they remind him of, while Mace looks on. Once they both have a sufficient assortment of foods on their plates, Mace outlines what to expect from the afternoon. They’re going to attempt a little more Force training, and Bail has invited some non-human friends to dinner. “Admiral Ackbar is a Mon Calamari from the water world of Mon Cala,” Mace explains. “He’s one of the greatest naval heroes of the Rebellion, but it may be hard for you Earth people to immediately come to terms with his…physical appearance.”

“Calamari, like squid?” Leia asks around a mouthful of non-bantha-derived cheese.

“Well, if I had to choose an Earth species, I’d say they look most like man-sized crayfish,” Mace says as Leia’s eyes widen. “I sometimes think the Asgardians or the early Jedi must have intentionally set up some of these linguistic overlaps, just to mess with Midgarders. Just do your best to listen to what the Admiral has to say instead of thinking about lobster rolls.”

“I can handle it,” Ben says self-assuredly. “Can’t be any more disconcerting than trying to talk seriously with guys from Anonymous or a bunch of ladies in burqa.”

“Seriously, Ben? Burqas aren’t giant lobster weird,” Leia objects. 

“Well, either way there’s no way I can read the person. That’s what’s weird,” Ben points out, bristling a bit at the idea that his mom could assume he's misogynist, Islamophobic, or both. “Though now, with the Force thing — Mace, will I be hearing thoughts from people who don’t speak the same language, or from different species, like Mon Calamari or what have you?”

Mace nods. “Yes, unless they are closed off to the Force naturally or by training. Force sensitive telepathy generally operates on a pre-linguistic level, so language and species are not a barrier.”

An exterior door slides open and Padmé and Bail walk in, laughing. The droid C-3PO follows them, carrying a tray of tea things back in from the garden. 

“How’s the training going?” Bail asks. Leia shrugs and Ben scowls. 

Mace smirks. “That good, huh? Maybe I need to try something different. You all hang out and finish eating. I’m going to go "phone a friend," as it were.” 

Padmé squeezes Ben’s shoulder, then Leia’s, as she moves around the table to find a place to sit. “It’s so strange to be back,” she muses, placing some fruit on a plate. “And to be your age, Bail. Now, tell me who’s coming to dinner tonight.”

Before the senator can answer her, though, Leia interrupts. “What, or who, is that?” she yelps, pointing to a spot between C-3PO and the window.

“Is what?” asks Padmé, brow furrowing. Bail shrugs. 

C-3PO turns his head back and forth and, seeing nothing, assumes he is the object of her inquiry. “I am See-Threepio, protocol droid, Madame Solo. I am fluent in over six billion forms of communication. How may I assist you?”

“Not you, silly. The blue guy with a beard!” Leia growls in frustration.

Ben looks where Leia’s pointing. He doesn’t see a blue guy with a beard, but something does seem to be wrong with the air. It shimmers as if some intense source of heat is distorting the light waves. Ben frowns as the shimmering distortion moves across the room toward the senator. “Mom, is the blue guy near Senator Organa now?”

“Yes! Do you see him too?” Leia says breathlessly.

“No, but something is definitely weird with the air over there,” Ben responds. Just then, Mace Windu descends the stairs from where he’d been meditating for the last few minutes. 

“Can either of you see him?” he asks. Leia nods.

Mace smiles at her. “You can see him? That’s excellent, Leia, really excellent. Let me introduce you to Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

The glowing figure ventures a wave at Leia. “Pleased to meet you, madame. You can call me Ben.”

“That would be confusing,” Leia objects. “My son here is Ben.”

“What? Is that voice coming from the blue guy you’re seeing?” Ben is quite confused.

“Patience, Solo,” Mace says calmly. “You’ll learn to see him soon enough. Obi-Wan is what we call a Force Ghost. They’re manifestations of the spirits of Jedi who have died and become one with the Force. If you see Anakin in this realm, that's what he will look like. Obi-Wan and another Master, called Yoda, used this power to manifest to Luke and finish training him as a Jedi. I’m hoping they can help with your training as well.”

Bail stands from his chair and bows slightly to the others. “If you all will excuse me, Kaydel and I need to finish arrangements for this evening. Padmé, you are most welcome to join us. Master Windu, please give my regards to Master Kenobi.”

“It’s always good to see you,” Ben hears the disembodied voice say, though Organa apparently doesn't hear it. Like the droid, Master Kenobi’s voice sounds British. Ben hopes he can soon catch up to his mother and see the Jedi Master’s ghost as well as hearing it. It doesn’t make any sense to him why Leia is able to handle the Force so much better than him. He wonders if it’s genetic; if, by being 75% Earthling, he’ll always lag behind every other Force user in existence. 

Yet another reason to go back to Earth where he belongs.

* * *

The lobster-lookalike guest at Senator Organa’s home that evening, Gial Ackbar, is just planetside for two days in the midst of ongoing naval campaigns against the remnants of the Imperial forces. Ackbar arrives early and closets himself with Bail, Mace, and Padmé in the senator’s private study for over an hour. His grandmother and honorary uncle are apparently among a select group of people (and sentient crustaceans?) responsible for the fate of galaxies. While they meet, his mother chats with the invisible Jedi, Kenobi, and Ben is left to fend off increasingly flirtatious attempts at conversation from Senator Organa’s increasingly tipsy assistant, Kaydel.

The other guests who arrive for the small gathering include two more senators and the New Republic Chancellor’s PR specialist. One of the senators has a tiny head, an extra set of arms, and a name like “Nimrod” or something. Ben can’t remember if this person is male or female or neither. The other senator has a pinkish grey face bearded with tentacles, and needs to mist himself with water midway through the meal. Apparently, he hails from the same planet as Admiral Ackbar and was invited at the last minute. The PR rep, Olia Choko, is beautiful in a blue sort of way, and extremely positive and idealistic. Ben is surprised at how well his sarcastic, often cynical mother gets on with her. By the end of the meal Leia seems to have developed opinions on many major issues facing the New Republic. 

Ben, who is seated between Mace and the tentacle-face guy, discovers that he can in fact read the thoughts of non-humans pretty effortlessly. Unfortunately, the Quarren senator is an incredibly uninteresting person who spends most of the meal thinking about pod-racing. He doesn’t seem to notice Ben skimming his thoughts, but when Ben turns his attention to Mace he immediately gets a silent telepathic _“cut that the fuck out”_ for his troubles. He tries to avoid reading Kaydel, and finds Bail a blank slate. His mother’s mind is the most interesting experiment. He has been picking up her emotions in a general way pretty consistently since they arrived Asgard in the first place, but her expletive-ridden internal monologue quieted as soon as Mace started training them. At first her walls seem like Bail’s, but he finds a weak point, only to get forcibly expelled a minute later. She looks over at him, eyes narrowed. He shrugs, tries to look innocent, and puts another slice of something that’s probably fish into his mouth.

Dinner is intense, as much because it is the first time they have to practice their weak cover story as because of the outlandish experience of meeting humanoid alien species. None of the guests seem to care for the specifics of where Padmé has been all these years, though Olia attempts to console her for having to hide from an abusive spouse for that long. Ben is interested to see what his grandmother has to say to that, but she just guides the conversation onto other topics rather than facing the Anakin issue.

That night, Ben lies in his surprisingly comfortable bed, staring at the pale, smooth ceiling. He’s getting good enough at the mental wall that he can mute the life forces around him to a steady hum of white noise. Sleeping might actually happen. He has a persistent…problem, though. And he’s afraid that if he gets himself off, while thinking about — just for the sake of example — say, Rey, he won’t be able to maintain his walls well enough to keep his mom and Mace from knowing all about it. 

That’s when he sees the odd shimmering of the city lights at the window. “Obi-Wan? What the fuck are you doing in my room, dude?” he asks brusquely, really hoping the Jedi Master didn’t hear what he was just thinking about. A voice comes in response, but it’s not the urbane British tones from the afternoon.

“Ah, is that how you welcome your grandfather?”

“Anakin? I still want to know what the fuck you’re doing in my room, dude. Do you ghosts creep on everyone or do you only invade the privacy of Force sensitives?” Ben found the man annoying on Earth and is surprised to find that the idea of his invisible presence is even more annoying. He suddenly feels incredibly exhausted.

“Well, your grandmother isn’t Force sensitive, but I hang around her absolutely as much as I possibly can. I did miss her awfully for the last twenty-five years,” the familiar voice responds.

“And you don’t think it’s weird and stalkerish? What if she’s, I dunno, taking a shit?” Ben is incredulous.

“I want her to see me, I really do. Luke and I have been studying the holocrons, and I think I’ll be able to become visible to her soon. I’m surprised you can’t see me yet. Leia can. I popped in on her earlier when she was meditating and she screamed and started trying to hit me with stuff before I could even say “I am your father.””

“I didn’t get my mom out of rehab and bring her to this crazy fucking alternate universe for you to give her a heart attack, do you hear?” Ben’s voice is raised and he’s sitting up in the bed, gesticulating wildly in the direction of where he thinks Anakin is. “Don’t you fucking dare. Give us all some privacy, would you? And think about maybe, I dunno, apologizing to all the people you fucked with when you were a Sith Lord?”

Anakin’s response is annoyingly not to the point. “What’s a rehab?”

Ben is fuming. He wishes he could see Anakin so he could take a page from his mom’s book and throw shit at the guy, even if it would be pointless considering Anakin’s immaterial form. Smashing shit is something Ben has definitely done a little too much of over the years. His knuckles are webbed with fine scarring from the number of times he’s punched a door or a wall. He doesn’t want to damage Senator Organa’s fine home, the guy is a great host and is treating them well. But if Anakin keeps pushing Ben’s buttons or freaking out Leia, he’s going to explode. 

Something about Force sensitivity seems to interface with his anger in an odd way, though. As he fumes, Ben notices a vase at the other side of the room trembling. One of the rugs flies up off the floor while a stool tips over. He takes a deep breath, hoping he isn’t somehow magically going to destroy Organa’s house, and breathing feels suddenly…powerful. Like energy is flowing through him from the flats of his feet to the tips of his fingers. He looks around in surprise, and that’s when he sees it: Anakin, but glowing blue instead of in the form he’s familiar with on Earth.

The younger man half smiles and shrugs. “Guess you are my grandson whether you like it or not. That’s some powerful dark side energy you have going on there. Want me to help you tone it down before you blow a hole in the roof?”

Ben grits his teeth at the glowing apparition. “I have a great idea how you can help me calm down. You can get the fuck out of my room and leave me alone. And my mom. Leave her alone even more. I’m serious.”

Anakin laughs lightly, shaking his head. “Luke is going to love this. I’m telling you, Ben, I’m your best hope for learning to manage your particular Force skills. Mace wouldn’t be bad, but he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about training you two. We can talk about it tomorrow. Sleep tight, grandson,” he says and disappears.

Ben shakes his head, still fuming, and heads for the attached bathroom, or “fresher” as they seem to call it here. A very cold shower is very much in order.

* * *

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 3 (5.5.3.3 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Ben wakes up feeling odd. On the one hand, he is still energized with the Force. He tries the wall-building exercise and manages to envision the whole thing in seconds without any distraction. (Whether it would hold up in the face of his mom or Mace trying to breach it is another matter, but it should at least prevent random telepathic projection.) 

On the other hand, he feels depressed. He’s experienced this before; it’s sort of a conscience hangover. Sometimes, you maybe win a boxing match and your opponent’s face is permanently going to be a different shape. Maybe you win a really rude argument on Reddit. Maybe you get a headshot on the target insurgent just as he pops out of a cave in Helmand. Maybe there’s a drunk girl in your bed and you’re not sure what her name is. Anyway, the night before, it felt fucking awesome. Now there’s regret, and damned if it doesn’t cancel out any rosy glow. 

That’s how Ben feels now as he thinks back on blowing a gasket at his freaky ghost grandfather. It would have been better to take some deep breaths, ignore the dude, and go make sure his mom was ok. That would be wisdom, “adulting,” whatever. 

Maybe he’ll do better tomorrow. For now, whatever the type of hangover, a run always makes Ben feel better. So he rifles through his rucksack for the running shoes. He pulls on a sleeveless athletic shirt, loose tan trousers with a clasp closure emblazoned with the crest of the Alderaanian royal family, socks, and Asics. He nods to See Threepio’s tubby white and blue robot friend on his way out the door. Getting lost is a real possibility, so Ben just runs toward the shore of the lake or sea he’s seen in the distance, scribbles a big arrow in the sand to mark where he should turn home from, and starts running along the shore, toward the dawn.

It’s serene, and a pleasant breeze carries cooling vapor up off the water. After a mile or two he feels refreshed, and it almost tingles in the way his anger had the night before; all the way from his heart to his extremities. The energizing feeling is surprising. It's like all the things that make the environment pleasant on this planet -- the sun, the breeze, the lake, the birds, the flowers -- are feeding power into him. He's tempted to say he could run an ultra-marathon or leap ten feet in the air, feeling like this.

Ben pauses for a moment and pulls out the elastic that’s holding his hair up and back off his face. Just to test something Mace said he'd be able to do in his training. He places the small black band in the upturned palm of his hand, closes his eyes, and imagines it floating away.

When he opens his eyes, the elastic is, in fact, floating. It’s a few feet in front of his face. Ben breaks into an enormous grin and can’t contain his triumphant laugh. This world may be freaky, but it’s filled with odd little opportunities. He can’t wait to show Mace his new skills when he gets back to the house.

Feeling like he’s run far enough for now, Ben turns back. As his loping strides turn away from the sun along the shore, he thinks he hears his name called in a very familiar voice. Rey’s voice. It’s not possible, but he halts his steps and turns around slowly. Satisfied that there’s no one there, he returns to a run. 

* * *

_Somerville, Massachusetts. November 11, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

The door chimes behind a pair of departing customers as Rey starts up a new carafe of drip coffee. The chill that follows the door opening and closing is a reminder of how grey and Novemberesque it is out there. She waters Padmé’s bonsai and adds some more pastries to the display case. 

A regular customer — a Tufts undergrad like herself, apparently — expresses interest in the Help Wanted posting, and Rey chats with him for a while about what a barista’s job entails. Before she knows it, it’s nearly lunch time and Finn is bustling through the rear employee entrance with a large box of panini.

“Finn!” she exclaims, giving him a quick side-hug. “Glad you’re here early. Is it all right if I clock out a few minutes ahead of schedule?”

“Sure, what’s up?” he asks while hanging his jacket and stowing the panini. 

“My special order came in at the new bookshop around the corner. I wanted to grab it before I make the trek to class,” she explains. “Have you been over there yet? The owner is really cool.”

“No, I’ll have to check it out,” Finn responds. “But feel free to head over there. I think I’ve got everything under control here, and Sabine comes in at lunch time too.”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” Rey smiles, grabbing a day-old for her lunch and pulling her thrifted Ann Taylor belted trench coat off its hook. She grabs her purse and goes out the front entrance, bells jingling as ever. 

The street is not busy, which is normal for late morning on a Tuesday. She’s scanning back and forth, deciding if it’s safe to jaywalk to get to the bookstore faster, when she sees something inexplicable. Passing on the sidewalk on the other side of the street, there’s a man who looks just like Ben Solo. Like, identically like Ben Solo. She recognizes his sleeveless vest (though, he must have run quite the distance this morning to be warm enough to get away with that in November) and the sleek black trainers. He has the right watch and the right hair — it’s flowing free — but is wearing some weird tan track suit bottoms.

“Ben!” she calls out, barely resisting the urge to run across the street to grab his attention. It’s good that she does resist, because just then the bus rumbles by. By the time it passes, she doesn’t see him anywhere. It’s like he vanished. 

Still, she must have been mistaken. It must have been someone else, because there’s no way Ben’s back after only four days. If he were, he would tell her. Right?

* * *

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 3 (5.5.3.3 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

“Master Bail!” exclaims Threepio, clearly in a dither about something. “The port just commed. Commander Skywalker has arrived!” The blue and white droid next to him, Artoo Detoo, lets out a stream of excited beeps and whistles, dancing from side to side like a golden retriever who’s just heard the word “leash.” Ben has learned that this peppy little machine is an astromech unit, designed as a sort of artificial intelligence assist for fighter pilots, but used in wider settings because of their basic indestructibility and upbeat programming.

“Excellent. I'll take a speeder and welcome him. Padmé, would you like to come with me?” Bail asks. 

She nods, her smile dazzling. “Why don’t we all go? I’m sure Leia and Ben can’t wait to meet Luke, and they’ll probably find the spaceport fascinating.” Artoo beeps and whistles some more. “Yes, if we go in two speeders, there’s room for you to come too. Yes, I’m glad you ended up being my son’s astromech, Artoo.” Her eyes twinkling, she looks at Ben. “Bail, can we take the river route instead of going through the heart of the city to get to the port? Ben might enjoy learning to drive a speeder.”

The Ben in question raises an eyebrow and shrugs. He’d happily jump behind the wheel of pretty much anything on Earth — maybe not some Soviet-era pieces of shit, but he’s piloted submersibles, helicopters, motorcycles, a tank, and just about everything in between. One of the few areas where he reluctantly has to admit he’s his father’s son. Whatever a speeder is, he has a reasonable chance of learning to drive it well and fast, but he doesn’t want to risk anyone else’s life in the process. “Sure, what the hell.”

Bail takes Padmé, Leia, and Artoo, while Mace climbs into the second speeder next to Ben. Kaydel remains at the house with Threepio, who mutters something about being offended by General Calrissian’s copilot, whatever that means. 

Mace points out the basics of the controls and offers a few useful warnings about how acceleration and deceleration will feel different with a repulsorlift system, and they’re off. If anything, it feels really similar to piloting a speedboat, though without the tendency for the nose to pull upward at high speeds. He misses the visceral connectedness of wheels on the ground, given how close they _are_ to the ground, but it’s freeing and certainly fast. Mace gives the occasional advice on Chandrilan traffic norms like where to keep left or right or give way to another speeder, but by the time they get to the spaceport it feels as natural as driving.

Bail has led them to a docking bay where a large, vaguely circular craft is parked. For the life of him Ben can’t imagine how it attains lift, but he supposes the engine technology here must just be advanced enough to make it work, aerodynamics be damned. The spacecraft is a pale drab color, with occasional meteorite scarring (unless it’s the evidence of space battles, Ben supposes) and innumerable panels and attachments that serve who knows what purpose. A ramp lowers and three figures emerge. 

First are two human men, remarkably divergent in appearance; they’re followed by a prodigiously hairy, tall humanoid who seems to eschew clothing. The older man is dressed with at least as much splendor as Senator Organa, though perhaps with more attention to freedom of movement. He has a short tunic and leather holster belt over dark pants and immaculately shiny boots. A blue velvet cape completes the ensemble. His wavy dark hair and mustache may be natural or dyed to maintain the illusion of agelessness, and an open smile reveals rows of perfect teeth. He has his arm around the shoulder of the younger man.

This younger man is dressed in a sober black suit; wrap tunic over trousers and boots. His dirty-blond hair is cut in a shaggy mop, and piercing blue eyes gaze out of a scarred face. One of his hands is bare while the other is protected by a black leather glove — Ben looks back and forth between him and Mace, noticing the similarities in how they carry themselves. He hopes losing key body parts isn’t a given for Force sensitives in this realm. While the older man may be the right age to be Leia’s twin, Ben remembers that there are oddities to the passage of time between the realms, so this young guy (whose skin tone makes him more believable as a child of Anakin and Padmé) must be his uncle Luke. He notes the weapon belt Luke carries, which has a pistol and a metal tube like the one he has noticed Mace carrying since they arrived in Hanna City.

The caped man squeezes Luke’s shoulder and lets go, striding down the ramp swiftly to greet Organa’s party with a grin. “Senator Organa. Lovely to see you again. Your Majesty, I’m General Lando Calrissian, captain of the _Millennium Falcon_. It’s an honor to meet you.” He bends in an ornate bow, then kisses Padmé’s hand. Next he takes Leia’s hand. Ben sees his mother’s raised eyebrow, her “you have got to be shitting me” face, but he can also feel in the Force that she might be a little bit flattered. “Hello, what have we here?” asks Lando suggestively.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family reunion continues at Bail Organa's house. Ben learns a few things about the Force from Luke and uses some powers he didn't even knew he had in him. Plus the long-awaited appearance of expat business mogul Han Solo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've mentioned before that the timeline in this universe makes creates challenges when it comes to the new generation of heroes in the Sequel Trilogy. As you've seen, some characters like Rose, Finn, and Phasma have shown up as Earthlings in the coffeehouse AU part of the universe. Others remain in the Star Wars (Ieldraan) universe but are older than in the movies, like Kaydel. (In her case, I've also taken the liberty of making her Alderaanian to explain her hairstyles!)

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 3 (5.5.3.3 ABY)_  
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Leia huffs. “What have we here? Seriously? I don’t know who you are, or where you come from, but from now on, don’t call women “what,” okay pal?” she says smartly. Lando takes a step back, shaking his head and raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. The hairy creature, silent until now, starts yowling and throwing his arms in the air. He sounds distressed, and walks up to Leia to grumble right in her face.

Leia looks at Ben sidelong, then Bail. “Will someone get this walking carpet out of my way?” she snarks, before pushing him out of the way and stomping past to Luke. The hairy creature looks dumbfounded, but Leia has already forgotten the encounter in her astonishment at greeting her…

“Brother,” she breathes. Luke smiles, extending his arms for an embrace. “You’re really him. All those years, and you really exist.” Ben can see a tear tracking down his mother’s face, and he looks at Padmé, frowning. He sees the moment that sudden awareness crosses his grandmother's features. She knows, he thinks, she knows now that Leia wasn’t schizophrenic. All those treatments, those wasted years, the addiction, all hiding from an imaginary friend who wasn’t imaginary at all. He was her real twin brother, connecting to her across the stars in some inexplicable way.

“Sister,” Luke says over her shoulder. They part far enough to stand at arms’ length, just looking at each other, before Padmé joins them in a group hug, sobbing. 

General Calrissian comes to stand next to Ben. “You another relative?” he asks. Ben nods, extending a hand to shake in greeting. The older man clasps it warmly. “Is she always like that? Fiery and hypocritical?”

Ben shrugs. “Fiery, yes. But hypocritical?”

Lando laughs. “One second, she’s bothered that I disrespected women by calling her “what.” The next moment she’s shouting speciesist insults, calling my copilot Chewbacca a “walking carpet.” Hard to predict, that one.”

Ben half smiles. “Can’t say I know how to predict her either, but she certainly wouldn’t want to insult your copilot for his species. She’ll use every insult in the book to fight back if she feels threatened or like someone’s looking down on her. I don’t think we’ve had time to process how “human” versus “not human” plays into the dynamics here.”

Lando looks at him searchingly. “Well, I’ll try to get the two of them to apologize to one another some other time. Anything you and she want to know about tact and diplomacy, Bail Organa is the right man to be learning from. Now, if you want to learn how to win at cards, or how to look a little more distinguished, maybe I could help you out,” he finishes, smiling charmingly. 

Ben laughs uncomfortably. “I think I’m good. Senator Organa offered to lend me his whole wardrobe.”

Lando shakes his head. “That man and his Republic-era collars. Nah, if you want real fashion, come talk to Lando Calrissian, you hear? Nothing like a cape for making a memorable entrance.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ben smiles, shaking his head. This General Calrissian guy is quite a smooth talker. But he doesn’t see himself rocking a cape any time soon. Ben feels quite “distinguished” enough as it is, in a high-necked navy tunic and matching trousers, sturdy boots and a heavy belt with the ubiquitous Alderaanian crest. Padmé insisted that he not meet his uncle looking like a slob; the unintended result is that they look like they’re rocking navy and black versions of basically the same ensemble.

Bail invites everyone back to the house, but Lando and Chewbacca decline. Important business calls, apparently. Ben senses some tension around Luke’s Force signature as he bids them farewell and makes Lando promise to visit again very soon. Padmé joins Mace and Ben in the second speeder because Artoo refuses to be parted from his freshly returned young master. 

Luke is obviously a regular and highly esteemed guest in Bail’s house. The droids defer to him even more than to the master of the house, and Kaydel smiles and blushes as she brings him his favorite blue milk. Mace and Bail step outside to the terrace after everyone’s needs have been attended to, while Kaydel disappears to whichever office room she usually lurks in; all three trying to allow for some family reunion time. Ben hesitates on the margins, knowing he’s not as much a party to this reunion as his mother, grandmother and uncle are. He might as well practice his Force meditation while they get acquainted.

Luke is talking animatedly. “I was meditating that morning, and the second you left Midgard, I felt it! It was amazing, opening up, just like a part of me was restored that I never even knew was missing!”

“That’s what this whole experience of having the Force has been like to me,” Leia muses.

“Yeah, you felt…enthusiastic about it. I’ve been trying to help dampen the effects over our bond so you can control it more easily,” Luke mentions. “Have you felt that?”

Leia shrugs. “How would I know? I’ve been picking some things up incredibly fast, like seeing Force Ghosts. Could that be from your help?”

“Absolutely,” Luke nods. “I’m used to communicating with them, especially Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Yoda, so our bond helps you connect with them as well.” Hearing this makes Ben feel relieved. His mom isn’t necessarily worlds more awesome than him; maybe she was just getting help from Luke.

“So, tell me about this bond,” Leia says, sipping from a glass of Chandrilan wine. “Is that why I’ve been seeing you since we were toddlers, but never able to talk to you?”

“Yes,” Luke nods. “Though I could actually hear what you said sometimes, and sometimes we didn’t connect at all. From when I was about seven until, oh, a couple years ago, I barely ever saw you. Do you know what that was about?”

Leia looks down at her glass, running a finger around the rim as she frowns. “I thought you weren’t real, that you were a figment of a disordered brain. I found that some drugs — ingesting certain pharmacological substances — blocked the visions, so I indulged in those and didn’t see you.”

“Wow,” Luke gasps. “I’m sorry that happened. We could have helped each other so much over those years.”

“Ah well,” Leia smiles softly. “It is what it is.”

Ben gives up the pretense of meditating and speaks up, moving over to sit with the twins. “This bond — is that a common thing for Force users, or is it just because you are twins?” 

Luke shrugs, looking at him with those sharp blue eyes. “There’s so few Force users left it’s hard to say what’s common. Obi-Wan was the only one I knew at first. He and Yoda told me about the most common bonds: the ones that Jedi Masters would have with their padawans, and that mothers could have with their children. I haven’t experienced those, because I didn’t have a traditional Jedi education and my mother isn’t Force sensitive.” 

Leia looks at Ben. “I think Ben and I have one of those maternal bonds. It was surprising, to say the least, when we got to Asgard and he could hear my thoughts.”

“Surprisingly disturbing,” Ben mutters. “I hope we can learn to mute that. It seems to be mostly emotions now, not the full every single thing you’re thinking.”

“There’s more bonds, too,” Luke calls their attention back. “Some of the old Jedi texts and holocrons I’ve been able to find in the last couple months as we’ve taken over Imperial sites and libraries have talked about bonds between twins and between Force sensitive lovers, but those situations are both rare. For one thing, for a long time the Jedi required celibacy, probably so the whole population wouldn’t become Force sensitive and get out of control.”

“How would the whole population become Force sensitive?” Ben wonders.

Luke sighs and finishes his blue milk. “In the late Republic, there was a theory that something called midichlorians caused Force sensitivity. As it turns out, it was junk science. It’s only the explanation in certain cases, where Force sensitivity arises spontaneously — like in my father’s case. For most people it’s simple genetics, a dominant trait; if either parent is Force sensitive, the children will have a good likelihood of being Force sensitive too. Leia and I each have a Force user gene variant from Anakin and a plain variant from Padmé, and you, Ben, inherited Leia’s Force user gene variant. You are equally capable of Force use as we are, and even as someone with two Force user gene variants; just unlike them, we're not _guaranteed_ to have Force sensitive children.

“Midichlorian levels was a bad hypothesis that had both good and bad results,” he continues. “The good result is that the Jedi did not find and collect all the Force users to train, nor did the Empire exterminate them all, because some Force sensitives have low midichlorian counts and weren’t spotted. The bad result was that Palpatine, who had low midichlorians, managed to escape notice when he was one of the most powerful Sith of all time.”

Leia downs the rest of her glass of wine, then gestures to the comfortable armchair on the other side of Luke where Padmé had been quietly listening to their conversation, her eyes locked on her long-lost son. Her eyes have now closed, and gentle snoring issues from her mouth. “You’ve put my mother to sleep! Our mother, I mean. That was quite the dissertation. You spend a lot of time studying this stuff?”

“Well,” Luke blushes, looking down, “I’m the only Jedi resident in Ieldraan these days and they want me to get up a new temple to train Force users. I needed to understand the reproduction stuff because I’m thinking about removing the requirement that Jedi be celibate.”

“Lando Calrissian have something to do with that?” Leia teases him gently, her eyebrow raised. 

Luke begins coughing. “How did you…”

“I could see how you two looked at each other,” Leia answers. “Plus the emotions coming over our bond. You just broke up, right?”

Luke nods, sighing. “Yeah, he doesn’t want to hang around for the part of building a new galactic republic that doesn’t involve flying around having adventures. I understand, that part is fun.”

Ben can imagine. About as fun as war always is — rocketing adrenaline highs interspersed with mud, blood, and soul-destroying sorrow. “So this Lando guy convinced you the Jedi shouldn’t be celibate? I guess that’s a good thing if Mom and I are training with you while we’re here, because I’m not particularly interested in becoming a priest.”

“A priest?” Luke looks confused. Leia pats his hand. “It’s an Earth thing.”

“I wouldn’t say it was just Lando,” Luke demurs, blushing again. “I canvassed the other Force users I know. Anakin has some pretty forceful opinions on the matter for obvious reasons. Obi-Wan is inclined to agree. Yoda admitted that his entire species are Force users, so they can’t all observe celibacy if they want to continue to exist. Master Windu says I can do what I want, but there will be unintended negative consequences either way — he can be kindof a downer, you know? And that Thor guy said they don’t observe celibacy on Asgard, so why should we, but I think he’s kindof a dumbass.”

“I haven’t met Thor,” Leia says, “but based on the feelings I’m getting from the bond right now and everything that people told me about him on Earth, I’m going to guess you’re jealous. Did Lando moon over him or something?”

“Lando moons over just about everyone, with the rare exception like Chewbacca where he doesn’t dare put the moves on. So don’t think you can figure me out through the Force just yet, sister,” Luke smiles. “Thor just seriously seems not that smart.”

Ben nods agreement. “There may be secret depths, but he just seems optimistic and carefree to an annoying degree. Mace considers risks a lot more carefully.”

“For good reason,” comes a voice from the corner. A blue figure fizzes into view; it’s Anakin. “He wasn’t quite so wary before I cut his arm off and threw him out of a skyscraper on Coruscant.”

“Nice of you to join us, father,” Luke says. 

Ben scowls. “I’ll leave you guys to discuss your midichlorians and shit. I’m going to get some fresh air,” he says, standing. He doesn’t relish getting pissed off at his grandfather again right now, so he’ll retreat to the balcony and intrude on whatever Bail and Mace are doing. He has some questions for them anyway.

It’s a calm, clear evening as he steps outside, the door sliding shut noiselessly behind him. For a place with such low light pollution, Ben is surprised he doesn’t see more stars. Perhaps the two bright moons in the sky have something to do with that. The breeze is fresh, blowing off the water, and he feels energized again, like stepping away from Anakin was the right choice. 

Mace turns, spotting him, and beckons him to come join them. He flicks his wrist and a lounge chair from the other end of the patio floats over and settles in a convenient spot. Ben sits on it, feeling a bit deflated. Will he ever be able to control the Force as effortlessly as his uncles?

“Quick question for you gentlemen,” he says, because in running a business he’s definitely learned it’s better to get to the point first, and enjoy the pleasantries after. “For whatever reason, people here speak what I would call English.”

Mace laughs. “Yeah, it’s crazy, ain’t it? Here we call it Galactic Basic. There’s plenty of other languages too, as you’ve probably heard Threepio pointing out. I’d guess Odin is responsible for introducing it on Earth, back a millennium ago when he still left Asgard. But even Yoda isn’t old enough to tell you if I’m right, and Odin doesn’t answer questions from anybody.”

Ben isn’t sure what he thinks about the mysterious Odin, father of Thor. But historical linguistics isn’t really why he’s here. “What I’m wondering is if the writing system is the same? Am I literate here, or do I need to learn a new writing system? There are only like five books in my room, and they’re illegible but ancient, so I wasn’t sure if it’s the same script now or not. I’d like to get hold of one of those datapad thingies I see Kaydel using.”

Bail smiles. “Good question. Galactic Basic is usually written in Aurebesh letters, like so.” He picks up his own datapad from a side table and taps a few times, before showing Ben the display. “Today’s news bulletin.” Ben looks at it a moment, recognition blooming. These are the figures he saw on the note in the briefcase Léon gave to Padmé. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Solo,” Mace remarks. “You studied Arabic, Aurebesh is not going to bust your balls. Or…” He pauses a moment, reaching out with his feelings. “You’ve seen Aurebesh before? How the hell did that happen? Do I need to have a chat with your grandma about breach of confidentiality?”

Ben sighs and reinforces his mental wall. If Padmé hadn’t told her oldest friend about the letter, Ben was going to do his best to avoid spilling the beans. At least, to whatever extent he can without coming across as an obvious liar in the face of a more skilled Force telepath. “She has a friend named Léon who brought a briefcase with some papers in it. I peeked in the briefcase and saw that the papers had text I couldn’t identify. That’s all.”

“She told me about Léon. The papers probably had something to do with Thor, so it’s entirely possible it is Aurebesh. He always says he prefers to write in Aurebesh than Asgardian, anyway. So, you want to learn to read?” At Ben’s nod, Mace thinks for a moment. “It’s a phonetic system, so you could probably deduce it yourself if you want. I’ll ask Threepio to help you in the morning. You can just tell him to shut off when he gets too annoying.”

“Or you can set him to work translating those old tomes in your room,” Bail suggests. “Luke collected them from stars knows where. Some kind of ancient Jedi tracts.”

“Sounds exciting,” Ben deadpans, earning grins from the older men. Bail pours some ochre liquid in a glass and offers it to him. The three men clink glasses in a toast; following Bail’s lead, Ben downs his at one go. Mace follows suit, shaking his head.

The liquor is fiery but sweet, light but smoky. “Damn that’s good,” Ben opines. “Too good for shooting, honestly. What is it?”

“Corellian whiskey,” Mace says. “Of course you like it, it's a whiskey. Between Padmé and your father it's basically inevitable. Hey, whatever happened to that distillery your dad took over?”

Ben shrugs. “Solo Malt is still going strong, far as I know, just like all the rest of Solo Group. Haven’t seen quite as many ads for it lately, which is nice. But I’d rather not talk about Han at the moment. Refill?”

One of the windows of the house sheds warm light over the veranda, and through it Ben can see the reunion gathering playing out like a silent film. Leia and Luke are laughing effortlessly, touching one another easily like they’re siblings who’ve known each other all their lives. Padmé is practically glowing with delight to watch them, and occasionally opens her mouth to say something. Perched on the arm of her chair is Anakin, literally glowing, and grinning mischievously at whatever Leia’s saying. Ben wishes he felt that connected with any of them, but for now he’s content to feel his mother’s happiness over their bond and sit out here under the stars, drinking alien whiskey with a Viceroy and a Jedi Master he thought he knew, once. 

Does he really know anyone, now? Padmé and Mace had a secret intergalactic history; his mom seems pretty magically transformed by accessing the Force and her bond with her brother. He never really knew his dad well in the first place, but he’s probably still that same shitty person. Tai and Voe are mostly virtual friends; they’ve spent maybe a couple months in the same place in all the years of their collaboration. He wishes he knew Rey, but he doesn’t, really. And none of them would know him, now — the Ben who can levitate minuscule objects, see dead people, and knock chairs over by being angry at said dead people.

Bail just asked him a question. “What was that?” Ben says, startled from his reverie. “Oh. Sure, reading with Threepio after breakfast sounds great.” He stands, feeling exhaustion settling over his limbs. Maybe being energized with the Force can take things out of you. He bids Mace and Bail good night and enters the house, slipping past the conviviality of the living room with a nod to his grandmother. He ascends the stairs to the third floor where his guest room is, and has made it almost to his door when Kaydel appears, popping out of a door on the other side of the hall.

“Oh!” she exclaims, a delighted smile spreading over her face. “Ben! I wondered where you went. Would you like to come over to my house for a nightcap?”

“You don’t live here?” he asks, confused. She seems to be around constantly.

Kaydel laughs. “No, I’m Senator Organa’s staff assistant, I get a little time to myself. My home is just down the street. We Alderaanians tend to stick together. So. Come with me?” She moves closer, grabbing his tunic and looking up at him from under her long eyelashes. 

But Ben is tired, and he’s definitely not interested. So he gently removes her hands from his tunic, looking down into her eyes and saying with all the conviction he can muster, “I’m not the man you need. You should ask Luke or something. A good solid citizen from around here. Good night,” he finishes and turns into his room.

* * *

_London, England. 12th November 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Han Solo drags a hand over his face. He feels exhausted, and it’s only eight o’clock in the morning. It makes sense, he supposes; four weeks of the hardest negotiations he’s known in his life are coming to their fruition today. He straightens his tie, finishes the dregs of the first cup of coffee, and presses the button to let Miss Sharest, his administrative assistant, know he’s ready for the daily briefing. Not like he hasn’t memorized it already. This is going to be one of the big days in Solo Group history. He can feel it.

Miss Sharest materializes almost instantaneously, bearing his next cup of coffee (white, no sugar) and a thick A4 file folder. “Good morning, sir,” she says severely. “Shall we go over your schedule?” He nods, and gestures for her to sit down. She does so, rearranging her prim cream silk ruffled blouse and wide navy skirt as she sits. He did well hiring her, Han thinks. The utmost in competence without any distraction; his Cessna is sexier.

“At half eight you have a call with Mr Moriarty of the Civil Aviation Authority. Mr Beckett, from the Board of Directors, asked me to fit in a call with you at half nine. He’s still endeavouring to convince you not to go through with the Kazakh deal today. If you like I can put him off by telling him your meeting with Mr Moriarty ran on. Then from ten o’clock, you and Miss Nest have the Churchill room reserved to review the documents for the deal. The representatives are scheduled to arrive at half eleven, at which point the agenda calls for signing the paperwork and then having a celebratory luncheon at your club. Shall I book the vitamin infusion service for you for this evening, sir? Luncheons with the ex-Soviets have a tendency to be…taxing.”

He scans the schedule and thumbs through the folder, ensuring everything that he expects is in place, before nodding. “That sounds wise, Falthina. Thank you for all your hard work on this hell of a deal. I’m going to be so glad when it’s over.” He crosses his hands behind his head, leaning back in the ergonomic chair. “That’s all for now. Don’t bother putting off Tobias, I can handle him.”

Today’s lunch meeting will finalize Solo Group ownership of the Rathtar offshore deposits in the Caspian Sea. It’s a bold move, but bold moves are what have gotten him this far. From a few paltry record stores in 1983 to a major multimedia firm, then the airline takeover, Han has set his sights on the highest echelons of success. Avionics is, of course, his personal passion, so when one of his engineers proposed a vertical expansion to secure the crude oil and refineries that would stabilize jet fuel prices for the Solo Airlines fleet, he’d jumped on the idea. The board has been tentative about investments in Central Asia, but they’re not visionaries like Han is.

He smiles as he finishes the second coffee. This is what he was made for. 

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 4 (5.5.3.4 ABY)_  
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Ben startles awake at what feels like the crack of dawn from a terrible nightmare, head throbbing, only to find Luke Skywalker looming over him next to the bed, hand stretched out toward his face.

“What the fuck, Luke?” he asks, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Ever hear of knocking?”

“Ever hear of don’t mind trick people without a good reason?”

“Uh, what?” Ben doesn’t know what a mind trick is, and Luke’s random appearance and hostile vibe have him on edge. He can feel the anger simmering. God, he needs coffee.

“Mind trick. Manipulation. That thing you did to Kaydel last night.”

“I didn’t do shit to Kaydel last night! She came on to me, I told her no thanks and went to bed. What is she saying I did?!?” After serving in the military and seeing what happened to women in the ranks, Ben’s generally in the camp “believe women,” but in this case there’s nothing to believe. Or, shouldn’t be.

“Well, Ben, as you might have expected, she showed up at my room in the wee hours and propositioned me. Kaydel and I have worked together for years without anything like this happening, so I skimmed her mind with the Force and saw that she was under compulsion. You don’t just do that to people, Ben!” Luke’s earnestness is palpable.

“I didn’t compel her to do anything, Luke! I told her I wasn’t the right kind of guy for her, she should be interested in somebody like you, some good guy from around here.”

Luke sighs. “Do you know what a Jedi mind trick is?”

Ben shakes his head. “Why the fuck would I?”

Luke quirks his head to one side, looking like he’s trying to assess whether Ben is telling the truth. “Maybe Mace taught you? I wouldn’t think you’d get it in a day or two, but if he didn’t teach you, then you got it without even knowing what it is. The mind trick involves putting compulsion in your speech to influence the actions of the weak-minded. So if I looked at you and said, “You love bantha milk and want to go drink some right now,” and you were susceptible to manipulation, you would go do that.”

Ben’s brow furrows. “So you’re saying that the way I spoke to Kaydel conveyed a subconscious command, and she was compelled to go proposition you? Damn, that has some crazy implications. So, how would I avoid having that happen every time I just really believe in something?”

“Try not to tell other people what they should do or believe. If you must do it, try to phrase it like a question, like “Don’t you think bantha milk is great?”” Luke offers. 

Ben can still feel the distrust and concern flowing off Luke in waves, though. So, whatever it is that Ben can naturally do to other people’s minds…Luke is not happy about it. Maybe a joke will defuse the situation. He looks intensely into Luke’s eyes, and says with a voice loaded with persuasiveness, “You will lend me your lightsaber. And speeder. And spaceship, if you’ve got one. And you will spend the day with your sister.”

Luke huffs. “Nice try, nephew. I will put you, and my sister, through a full regimen of Jedi training. I need to figure out what you can do and train you how to control it before you accidentally mind control more people.”

“Great,” Ben says flatly, swinging his feet off the bed. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to put some clothes on.”

Luke nods and leaves the room. Ben is left wishing the doors here weren’t all automatic pocket doors, so he could slam his and let everyone know how he feels about people intruding on his space uninvited. One of the chairs at the far side of the room starts to tremble, dislodging the belt he left on it yesterday, so he takes a deep breath, willing that dark and destructive feeling to recede. It almost does, but every time he sees Luke's face it threatens to simmer up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer than usual to update. I went back into the last couple chapters and edited a couple dates because I had made an error on my chronology. I think I've got it all sorted now...


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia hangs out with Anakin and gets a job offer from Bail. Meanwhile, Padmé and Ben demand some answers from Luke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some minor characters from Star Wars novels make an appearance from time to time... Also, in case you haven't noticed, I suck at moodboards. Haha

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 4 (5.5.3.4 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Leia wakes up earlier now that her circadian rhythm is acclimating to life on Chandrila. She accomplishes her meditation exercises, politely requests a bowl of fruit from the kitchen droids since bantha yogurt is definitely off the table, and takes her book out to the terrace to read in the pleasant morning sunshine. After a chapter or so, she notices Anakin humming into existence next to her. He’s a bit harder to see out here in the daylight; either that, or she’s not as attuned to his presence when Luke and Mace are otherwise occupied.

“What are you studying?” he asks lightly, almost sitting on the chair next to her. 

“Studying? Oh, this. This is a novel,” Leia laughs. “I gave up studying a long, long time ago. I just read because I enjoy literature.”

“Then why not use a holopad?” Anakin asks, genuinely puzzled. The only physical books he ever encountered were artifacts of long-gone cultures. Enjoyable literature is something obtained electronically.

“Some people do,” Leia shrugs. “We call them Kindles. I don’t like them. I like the feel of the pages.”

“Well, then you’ll love Jedi history,” Anakin grimaces. He sounds like a petulant college boy, and Leia shakes her head, still unable to wrap her mind around the fact that _this_ is her father. She always wondered what it would be like to have a father; Agent Fury was the closest thing to a paternal figure in Padmé’s extremely limited circle of friends. Leia often imagined a stern, rugged, greying type; some kind of an itinerant Clint Eastwood loner, who needed to go his separate way and didn’t want to be tied to Padmé’s scientific career. That image probably played into her first few sexual encounters, ill-advised escapades with sophisticated men more than twice her age when she was a teen at the theatrical academy.

It’s ironic, then, that when her father actually appears he’s the ghost of a whiny 20-something. “Didn’t you enjoy history?” she asks, finally.

“Eventually,” he admits. “I dedicated much of the last twenty years to studying long-suppressed Sith secrets.”

“Maybe you should get a datapad and read some light novels, could do you good,” Leia suggests with a raised eyebrow.

“Could I borrow your book when you’re done with it, instead? I’d like to learn more about Midgard, where my wife and daughter have been all these years.”

“You’re welcome to it,” Leia smiles, “but I’ll caution you. _Doctor Zhivago_ is set in the midst of some of the worst, most brutal wars and civil unrest of the last century. It won’t really teach you anything about the generally pleasant circumstances Padmé raised us in.” 

“Well, that’s good, right?” he asks, voice sounding more serious. “At least I didn’t drive you out of slavery, into the Sarlacc.”

“Out of the what?” Leia is confused.

“It’s an old saying on Tatooine—” Anakin begins to explain when both of them feel a harsh flash of anger bursting out in the Force. “What’s got Ben upset now?”

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. November 13, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Now that Rey and Finn are managing Café Nabú, she's there nearly every day. On Thursday, it’s a closing shift following her afternoon class. She walks a few blocks to the bank to deposit the day’s till, which is getting to be a less adrenaline-filled experience now that most of the customers pay electronically. Finn has signed up the cafe with a new service called Square.

Done at the bank, she doubles back to make a stop at Shelf Pleasure. Yeah, she was at the used bookstore literally two days earlier, which is overly frequent even for her. She needs to find a graduation gift for Finn, though. The extremely charming owner looks up from his register as she comes in the door, a blazing grin spreading over his features. She wonders what that smile would look like without the beard that hides his cheeks.

“Evening, how can I help you? It’s Rey, right?”

“That’s right,” she smiles. “And your name isn’t hard to forget, Poe. Is it actually after…”

“Yep,” he nods ruefully, but eying her flirtatiously at the same time. “My parents really named me for Edgar Allen Poe. Anyway, looking for anything specific today?”

She’s about to wave him off and take her chances, but she may as well see if this bookseller is worth his salt. “Actually I am!” she exclaims. “My friend is graduating with his Master’s next month, in nonprofit management. He reads, like, everything in existence about justice and equality: scholarly articles, pop nonfiction, magazines. But I can’t get him to want to try literature, like, novels, poems, essays, whatever. I think he had a shite English teacher or something. Can you recommend anything that will make him change his mind?”

“Certainly,” Poe answers, his face lighting brighter than ever with a grin. Within a few minutes, Rey has a tidy stack of books. There’s _House of the Spirits_ , by Isabel Allende; _Beloved_ , by Toni Morrison; and _The Gulag Archipelago_ , by Solzhenitsyn. Poe plops a well-loved Langston Hughes anthology on the top and begins to ring her up. “The poetry’s on me, then he can’t hate you if he doesn’t want to read poetry,” he says with a wink. 

As he hands over the paper bag, their fingers brush. Poe smiles again. “Want to get coffee sometime?”

Rey laughs, not sure if she’s happy or nervous of this man asking her out. He is gorgeous, if not in quite the right way. “You’re in luck, mister. I actually co-manage Café Nabú around the corner. Come by sometime this weekend, it'll be on the house!”

“In luck indeed,” he says with a wink as she leaves.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 4 (5.5.3.4 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Mace looks down from the window of his guest room as Luke trains his sister and nephew in the courtyard of Organa’s townhouse. The two Solos are learning to lift rocks telekinetically. It’s…not going that well. Ben has been a bit off kilter all morning since being rudely awakened by Luke’s attempt to read his mind. And while Leia devotes herself effectively to the mental and meditative aspects of the Jedi art, she seems to be completely incapable of taking the physical training aspects seriously. She’s a middle-aged actress, she was an addict just a couple months ago; he gets it. Whether Luke gets it is another question. His default mode seems to be to tease people, which isn't necessarily what his sister and nephew will respond best to.

Master Windu moves away from the window and begins to collect his few belongings into his bag. Thor is going to want an update on how the Naberrie clan is settling in, and he can only leave SHIELD unattended for so long. He’ll be on his way after lunch.

When he gets downstairs, Ben is coming in from the courtyard, wiping sweat from his brow with a t-shirt and frowning. “Where you off to, Mace?” he asks, nodding to the luggage. 

“Agent Fury’s got things to do,” he responds with a smile. “You and your mom are doing great. Still want to go back to Earth right away or you doing all right here?”

Ben’s hand stills, and he looks thoughtful. “It’s going better than I expected, but I’m still not sure exactly why we’re here. This little reunion, how long is it supposed to go on for? Could I send messages through you to my lawyers and stuff? I remember Nonna said there wasn't any method of inter-realm communication?”

Mace puts down the bags and accepts a plate from one of the droids. He takes a bite of a dumpling, chewing thoughtfully. “First question, why you’re here, I think Luke is hoping for more than just a reunion. He's trying to restore peace in the galaxy, and more Force using allies would be a great help. I’ll remind him to give you the whole picture. Second question, you are right that inter-realm communication doesn’t exist. I mean, this fact that apparently your mom and Luke were having visions or interacting with one another in some way — that’s completely unprecedented, as far as I know. Maybe Odin will have some ideas. I’d be happy to ferry messages to your lawyers as long as you understand that they can’t include any references to being off Earth. I reserve the right to read them, too.”

Ben nods, slowly. “That’s fair. I look forward to hearing what Luke has to say.” He doesn’t sound eager; Mace notices he’s scowling. 

“You didn’t sign up for this, did you? Training with your freaky young uncle,” the Jedi Master says matter-of-factly.

“You can say that again,” Ben snarks. “Look, clearly I don’t know how this stuff worked for you Jedi in the old days, but I didn’t ask for it, and the guy should just give me the benefit of the doubt instead of looking like I’m going to go rogue.”

“I don’t know that he thinks that. Probably just jealous. You should be a lot more inept for the amount of training you have; you and Leia both. Which either means that training kids the way we used to do was a waste of time, or that you…have unusual potential,” Mace muses.

Just then Leia stomps through the door and immediately up the stairs toward the private chambers. Anger and frustration are pouring off her in waves. “What’s got into her?” Mace asks as Luke comes in. 

Luke sighs. “Hard physical exercise has always been part of the Jedi way. I don’t know how to teach her all the concepts if she won’t test her limits with running and pushups and stuff! Heck, Master Yoda made me carry him around half the time while I was learning, and the rest of my time I was either standing on my head or eating gruel. It’s like she expects this to be a, a beauty spa or something.” The young man throws his arms up and stomps off toward the street door. “I’m going to take a walk.”

The door slides open before he reaches it, and Padmé enters. “Luke! Don’t be too long. I insist on a family conference.” She smiles, clasping her young son gently on the shoulder as he stomps past her out the door.

Half an hour later Padmé gets her wish. Ben is freshly showered, Luke has returned, Mace has dictated innumerable messages on his holopad, and now the four of them are seated in low armchairs at one end of the living space. “Mace, I hear you are leaving us today.” She gets a nod in response. “Thank you so, so much for bringing me back here to meet Luke. Spending time with my son was something I was never sure was going to happen.” She twists a fold of her sober velvet gown in her fingers. “Before you leave, though, I think it’s important to discuss what the plan is going forward. Benjamin and I each have businesses on Earth, so if we are going to be away from them for an extended period we should use our time wisely, no?”

Ben nods. “My mother is annoyed right now and doesn’t want to join us, but she let me know that she doesn’t mind staying here for a long time. Me, I need to know why we’re here beyond just meeting Luke.”

Mace and Luke look at each other. Mace nods, encouraging Luke to speak up.

“Okay, so, good questions, guys. I agree that you deserve to know why I really needed you to come here. Besides, obviously, meeting my family. It’s a long story, though.”

Padmé looks at him intently. “We’re all ears.”

“I was involved in the rebellion to end the Galactic Empire and its leader, Emperor Palpatine, who was also the Sith Darth Sidious. Since we succeeded in destroying the second Death Star battle station, the rebel alliance has been working on a couple different things. Bail has been here on Chandrila working with Mon Mothma to jumpstart the new, peaceful and representative Senate. Admiral Ackbar, who I think you met, has been cleaning up the aftershocks of war, since a couple factions of Imperials haven’t surrendered. My job, as the sole remaining Jedi, was to seek out information about the Jedi in hopes of starting a new training system for Force sensitive individuals in the newly free galaxy.

“While I'm looking for info on the Jedi, I figured I might as well also try to look for Force sensitives, starting with hints the old Masters gave me about my family. Ben Kenobi had told me my mother lived in exile in another realm where I could only travel using a Force-sensitive relic, but it got destroyed. He and Yoda also clued me in to the fact that I had a sister, which got me wondering about the girl who had appeared to me in visions when I was a child. Before long I managed to turn up a number of ancient Jedi texts in the Imperial archives, some of them mentioning this concept of travel among realms. 

“Many of the other texts, though, talked about the goals and duties of the Jedi. We aspire to bring balance to the Force. Sometimes how to do that is obvious, like wiping out overly powerful Sith lords or, in my dad’s case, converting them back away from the darkness. But the Jedi also had a series of closely guarded prophecies, which I’ve been trying to understand.

“First was the prophecy of the Chosen One who would bring balance to the Force. Mace and the other Jedi in his time decided that was Anakin, but he didn’t really bring balance to the Force until he died, so they thought they were wrong for decades. 

“The second prophecy — and the Jedi texts are only really clear that these are consecutive, so maybe I need to be looking out for this one soon, but maybe it won’t happen for a thousand years — says “darkness rises and light to meet it.” I’m not thrilled about this, because darkside users tend to be incredibly destructive and violent and twisted. But I guess all I can do is be prepared. Anyway, the texts interpret this to mean a dyad in the Force.”

Padmé interrupts. “I’m sorry, what is a dyad?”

Luke laughs lightly. “I’ll try my best. The Jedi scholars seemed to think it meant an ultrapowerful Force entity who was incarnated in two separate beings. If those beings find one another and become bonded, they will have amazing power and have the potential to rebalance the Force.” 

A throat clears behind Ben. It’s Leia, who has apparently joined the group without anyone noticing. “It sounds like in Plato’s _Symposium_. Have you ever read that, Mom?”

Padmé shakes her head no at the same time that Ben says, “Yeah.”

Leia takes the liberty of explaining. “In it Socrates describes a mythical arrangement for early people where they were balls with four legs and two heads, but one heart; they became too powerful and were punished by the gods by being split in two. So each person yearns to find their other half. In the context it’s more about romantic love and longing.”

Luke looks at her thoughtfully. “That’s interesting. The Jedi texts aren’t big on romantic love, but I suppose a dyad could take any form just like a bond can. Anyway, I was researching that prophecy and thought it was important to see if the two prophecies were related. Like, is it possible that the Chosen One balanced the Force, not in the way I thought, but by fathering two children who could form a dyad? I’m obviously the Light in that reading, so I needed to meet you, Leia, and see if you were the Dark.”

“Well?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. “Am I destructive, violent and twisted enough for you?”

Luke sighs, clearly exasperated with her. “Certainly not, but you’re not really trying hard enough to be _anything_ yet. You and Ben do seem to access the dark side more easily than the light. Anyway, I was poking around in the Jedi Temple ruins because Ackbar told me he heard rumors from some prisoners that Darth Sidious wasn’t really dead. There shouldn’t be any way he’s alive, but I keep an ear out. I was hunting for clues when that guy Thor showed up to check in on our galactic war. He introduced me to Master Windu, who helped me get in touch with you all and arrange for us to meet without the Jedi relic that was destroyed on Alderaan.”

Leia waits a moment, making sure he’s really done. “So what you’re saying is you need us here because you need to train me see if you and I are the dyad to balance the Force. Padmé and my son are just the icing on the cake?”

“Not exactly how I would put it — like, it’s sure nice to have a mom finally — but you’re basically right,” Luke allows.

Leia looks pensive. “And if we aren’t the dyad, or I don’t want to keep training?”

Luke sighs, flipping his hair out of his eyes. “It’s your choice. Thor said you three can stay here or go home. The only limitations are he can’t guarantee you can come back here again if you do go home; and Odin really doesn’t want me unleashing overconfident half-trained Jedi on this galaxy.”

“You’re one to talk,” Mace cuts in. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke rolls his eyes. “Master Windu is kindly reminding me of how I abandoned Master Yoda to rush off and try to rescue Lando and Chewie when they were in trouble with Vader. Got my hand cut off for my troubles,” he says ruefully, flexing his prosthetic fingers. 

“I’d prefer to avoid that particular outcome,” Ben offers. “Thanks for telling it like it is, Luke. I can tell my mom likes it here, even if she thinks your training sucks. Personally, I think it’s a challenge, so I’m down for sticking around a bit longer. Just don’t judge us for being darksiders if you think a prophecy determined your sister was going to be the dark to match your light. Your logic is stupid.”

Padmé laughs at that. Ben thinks it’s the most her normal, slightly mischievous personality has shone through since Thor brought the news that Anakin was dead. She adds her thoughts: “Since it seems like everyone is being extremely frank, I’ll agree with Ben. I’m happy to stay a while. Try not to bite one another’s heads off. Now, I’d like to say my farewells to my dear friend Mace before he leaves for a month or more, and then I’d like to have lunch with my grandson. I need to hear how your reading lesson went.”

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 3, Day 5 (5.5.3.5 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Leia is sitting in a comfortable chair with a cup of tea, finishing one of the last chapters of _Doctor Zhivago_. It’s late afternoon, and pleasant light streams through the window from the veranda. After she finishes this book, she’s promised herself she’ll try to learn something. Study the local writing system, like Ben has started working on, or how to understand one of the alien languages. She’s been watching the Chandrilan holonews, and wants to understand this place better. Whatever is going on in this galaxy, it seems less depressing than Russian novels, and a lot less depressing than real life as a Hollywood B-lister.

She’s lost in her musings when the door from the street slides open and Bail walks in arm-in-arm with another ornately dressed man. A friend from the Senate, she guesses. The man appears human, thinner than Bail and younger. He’s almost as tall, and his hair is obscured by an unusual headdress. Leia closes her book after marking her page, and stands, smoothing down the brocade of her dark green tunic. She’s gotten in the habit of letting Bail’s assistant braid her hair in their Alderaanian fashion, so she at least doesn’t have to worry about whether her hair looks crazy.

Seeing Leia, Bail guides the visitor over to her. “Senator Ro-Kiintor, may I introduce my guest Leia Naberrie Solo? Leia, this is Erudo Ro-Kiintor, junior Senator from Hevurion. Please have a seat and my droid will bring some refreshments. I have a pressing matter to attend to for a few minutes, so I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem,” Leia assures Bail with a smile. “Senator, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Senator Organa has not told me much about the issues facing Hevurion. What is life like for your people these days?” She smiles blandly, long-ago comportment lessons and boring parties with Han’s colleagues making this sort of entertaining second nature. 

Senator Ro-Kiintor exudes low-level displeasure; either he hoped to command Bail’s complete attention on this visit or he thinks less of Bail for not making Hevurion a major topic of conversation with his guests. He begins to talk, and as she listens Leia tries to open herself up to the Force, silently examining his feelings and intentions. Luke says that intentionally invading someone’s private thoughts dabbles on the edge of the dark side, but he has encouraged her to be open to the ideas that people broadcast.

What Ro-Kiintor has to say about Hevurion is largely bland platitudes about rebuilding and representation. But he feels like an out of tune piano key, a small vibrating dissonance in the Force. And what he’s thinking is…concerning. Leia struggles to keep her facial expressions appropriate to his actual words as she feels his thoughts wander to a pleasant memory of an Imperial sympathizer’s garden party, Imperial flags fluttering in the breeze. She registers his suspicions of her, someone with Alderaanian hair, a Nabooian name, and a weird accent. His frustration with Bail grows as the minutes tick by and he prattles on about the glorious customs of Hevurion. 

Leia dares to reach further, brushing past the surface of Ro-Kiintor’s mind to try to explore his deeper thoughts on Bail. He shows no evidence of feeling her incursion, so she pushes on, but almost immediately regrets it. Buried in the senator’s head are a number of violent fantasies targeting Bail and his friends, like calm, charming Olia Choko. Ro-Kiintor has dreamt of ending her glowing idealism, choking her, having assassins blow up transports holding the old Rebellion stalwarts, dreamt of leading a battalion of sharply uniformed troops bearing Imperial flags. Leia tries to see if these are simply fantasies or if he has actual plans to carry them out, her fingers twitching at her side as she wishes she could put the full force of her power into digging in and finding out what this man intends to do to her friends.

But she’s interrupted when he notices the book at her side. “My, my, Madame Naberrie Solo. Are you a collector of ancient texts?”

Startled, she shakes her head. “No, why would you think that?”

He indicates _Doctor Zhivago_ lying on the table at her side. “I haven’t seen a book like that since I toured the Imperial Museum. What language is that on the cover? I don’t recognize the script.”

“Ah,” she laughs nervously. They haven’t gotten into this level of detail about their cover story. “It’s from a very remote world. In the Unknown Regions, actually.”

He looks as if he is about to ask her more, but they are interrupted by the tea service, and Bail rejoins them a few minutes after that. The book is forgotten in serious conversation about a number of ceremonial matters to do with official Senate holidays, which appears to be a topic that is very important to the senator from Hevurion and not a little boring to Senator Organa.

Bail succeeds in ushering Ro-Kiintor out before the dinner hour. Ben, Padmé and Luke have not reappeared from whatever various things they are doing, so Leia seizes the opportunity to raise her concerns with Bail. 

“What do you think of Erudo?” Bail asks as he finishes his second cup of tea. “Nice young man but rather boring, or what?”

“I don’t trust him,” Leia says frankly. “He’s a fascist.”

“What? Why do you think that? Did he say something while I was on the comm upstairs?” Bail looks concerned.

“It’s not anything he said, though you have to admit he seems more thrilled about pomp and parades than about working on initiatives to help impoverished citizens of his system,” Leia points out. “I could sense through the Force that there’s something…not quite right about Ro-Kiintor. So I took the liberty of trying to scan his thoughts. That stunt that Luke pulled on Ben yesterday morning. He fantasizes about having you killed, Bail. Of threatening and choking your friends. And either he goes to parties with Imperial sympathizers, or he dreams of that, or it’s one of his favorite memories. That senator would be very satisfied if the New Republic failed tomorrow.”

“Hmmm,” Bail says thoughtfully, brow furrowed. “And he didn’t notice that you were scanning his thoughts in the Force? I suppose after Vader exterminated the Jedi, the youth today haven’t needed to learn to shield their thoughts.”

“He sure didn’t seem to notice,” Leia confirms. “It could just be idle daydreaming when he’s annoyed with you for not paying him enough attention. I’m not expert enough at this to be sure how serious his thoughts are.”

“It still warrants being careful. I really appreciate this, Leia,” he takes her hand in his, squeezing firmly. “You may have saved me and other people of good will. It’s been a long time since I had a Jedi watching my back. Thank you.” He pauses. “And you know, if you decide you don’t like what Luke’s teaching, I would love to have you working on my team at the Senate. You and Kaydel would be the best staff in the Senate.”

“I’ll keep your offer in mind,” Leia says, laughing. “Never considered a career in politics, but stranger things have happened!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there isn't more adventure and excitement in this chapter...Ben's just as annoyed about it as we are, I promise. ;)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey has a date, Han sends a birthday gift, Leia and Ben move to Yavin IV and try to "manage" their master, somebody passes out, and none of that is quite what it sounds like...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the two weeks between posts. The same is likely for the next chapter. Thanks for your patience!

_Somerville, Massachusetts. November 16, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey tends Padmé’s plants religiously, both at the house and here at Café Nabú. She still hasn’t figured out what happened to the odd one with the red blossoms. The place it left empty at home is now filled with a Christmas cactus Léon brought in. The old man still comes to the cafe every Friday for his milk and a chat. He seems a little disappointed every time it’s not Padmé behind the bar, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

The door jingles open, letting the sharp chill from outside seep into the room, and Rey looks up from her watering can. She breaks into a grin, matching the broad smile she sees on her newest customer: Poe, the bookstore guy. She wasn’t sure he would show, but he has. 

“What can I get you?” she asks, as he folds her into a familiar hug. He’s just a bit taller than her, so the embrace feels like Finn’s, if a bit more sinewy. 

“Well, I’m here for the company really, but if I get coffee too — phew!” Poe shakes his head teasingly. “I have to admit I’m kind-of a pumpkin spice latte guy this time of year. If that doesn’t get me thrown out the door.”

Rey shakes her head, laughing. “We don’t make those abominations, but I quite understand you about this weather. We do have an eggnog latte; would you like to try that?”

“Sure,” Poe nods, sitting down at the table by the window. Rey brings him his drink a few minutes later and sits down to take her break with him, cradling a mug of hibiscus tea in her hands. She notices how the light filtering in the window shines on his curly hair, flecked with silver. He’s older than she thought, maybe. Mid-thirties? They chat about nothing and everything for a little bit — films they’ve seen at the Brattle and the Archive, what it’s like running a small business in a town that’s gradually falling to the same high-end chains that have infiltrated Harvard Square. 

Rey's trying to keep herself from rolling her eyes while Poe expounds on why she should give Murakami another chance when he suddenly stops talking, words caught in his throat. Rey turns, looking over her shoulder to see what distracted the bookseller, and sees Finn at the counter, chatting with one of the regulars. Finn sends her a grin when he sees her looking in his direction, and a few minutes later he comes over to the table.

"Finn," she says with a smile, "have you met Poe Dameron? He owns Shelf Pleasure, the bookstore I've been telling you to visit." Finn's face lights up with a broad smile as he clasps the newcomer's hand in his. "Why don't you two talk for a minute?" Rey continues, standing and offering Finn her seat. "I'm done with break, but Finn loves to be hospitable to our neighbors." She shoots Poe a wink as she steps away.

* * *

_London, England. 19 November, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Miss Sharest rises from her desk when Han returns from his lunch break. “Sir, you requested I remind you. Today is your son’s birthday. Shall I have something delivered to his home, or do you intend to call him?”

Han pauses at the door to his office. “He called me last month, didn’t he? I never got back to him. Shit,” he says as his administrative assistant nods. “Well, let’s do both. You look up the last big deal he wrapped with that computer company of his, and have a bottle of Krug delivered in celebration. I’ll give him a call. Chances are he wanted to talk about Leia. Hope I can just say happy birthday and dodge that bullet,” he sighs. 

Miss Sharest nods. “I’ll do a spot of research and set up the call for you, sir. Have you spoken to Chroma Wellness lately about your wife?”

Han shakes his head. “No news is good news, right?” he mutters as he retreats into his corner office. It’s an impressive, airy, modern space. But Han has added a bit of whimsy by having it decorated with classic aeronautical memorabilia, including a half-scale model of the Wright Flyer suspended from the high ceiling. Three glass display cases contain platinum records by Solo Records artists. 

He has reason to be thankful for his capable assistant yet again when she buzzes the intercom to tell him that his son’s 5010 Group’s most recent big deal was with Santander Bank. As she dials and connects him, he smiles wryly recalling the time his in-house counsel, young solicitor Enfys Nest, had recommended they take legal action against 5010 Group for brand infringement. He hadn’t understood why until Miss Nest explained the concept of “leet speak.” Whatever. He’s not going to sue his son for using his own name. 

The call goes to voicemail after quite a few rings, and Han is informed that the wireless customer’s voice mailbox is full. He grunts and hangs up, then asks Miss Sharest to get his mother-in-law’s number for him. That call, too, goes to a full voice mailbox. What the hell. Well, he tried, didn’t he?

He sticks his head out the door. “Do send that Krug. Thanks. Couldn’t reach the kid.” Then he sits down at his desk to review the most recent file of reports his leading aviation engineers and financial analysts have sent him on the top-secret project he’s intending to announce next: Solo Galactic. Commercial spaceflight is the next frontier, he’s sure of it. And nothing gives him quite the thrill of imagining himself at the helm of a rocket ship. Though — skydiving is pretty close. Might be time for a vacation, reward himself for the Rathtar deal.

* * *

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 4, Day 3 (5.5.4.3 ABY)_  
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

A deep breath fills his lungs. Abides there, giving him life, sustaining him, just like the Force that surrounds him. Then he returns the breath to the world around him, sending it forth as he reaches out. He feels the energy signatures of the thousands of lifeforms that inhabit Hanna City and its lovely natural surroundings; they twinkle in the background. Nearer by, as he draws in another deep breath, Luke Skywalker feels the brighter energies of the people most closely connected to him in the entire galaxy, in all the realms: his sister, her son. His mother has a different presence, for though they are closer than anyone, she is not Force sensitive.

As he holds this breath he feels his own Force signature resonating in harmony with the presence beside him: there are two Skywalkers meditating on the balcony of Bail Organa’s townhome. The Force ghost of the redeemed Anakin Skywalker sits next to his son, reaching out to the universe in search of understanding and peace. Of compassion and tranquility. All things hard fought, and some of that hard fighting occurs in the silence of meditation. It is no easy feat to subordinate the will of a Skywalker to the will of the Force, but both these men are determined to do it.

The meditation comes to an end some time later. Luke opens his eyes on the last glimmers of twilight, then turns to his father, glowing blue as ever. “I feel at peace, but I don’t feel like I have any answers on how to train them. You?”

Anakin shakes his head slowly. He enjoys this time spent with his son, two Jedi together; it’s a unity of purpose, a partnership, that he hasn’t felt since Obi-Wan. Luke is the only person who really tried to understand who he was, back as Darth Vader, and his son retains that full comprehension even now that Anakin has reverted to appearing like a young man. His son treats him with reverence, like someone mature who has learned from hard-won experience. 

“I didn’t find what I was looking for, no,” Anakin speaks carefully. “Still no signs to indicate anything about the fate of Sidious. But I did feel some inspiration regarding your problem.” He turns to look at his son. “Do you remember when I first encountered you?”

Luke quirks an eyebrow. “You mean when you were trying to shoot me down when I was attacking the first Death Star, or when we met face-to-face?”

“The battle for the Death Star, yes. It happened just over Yavin IV, no?” Anakin reminisces.

“That’s right,” Luke nods. “The Alliance had set up a base in some ancient building there. Weird moon.”

“You should go there. Take Leia and Ben. The planet is extremely strong in the Force, and was a home to essential sites for both Jedi and Sith cultists,” Anakin advises.

“I didn’t know that!” exclaims Luke. “But what’s the point of taking them there?”

“When you trained with Yoda, where did you go?” Anakin asks his son.

“Dagobah. It’s where he was in hiding.”

“Yes, but he was in hiding there because the planet is so strong in Force energy. It was a perfect site for you to make great strides in your Force training.”

“So you think that if I take them to Yavin, they will learn faster?” Luke asks.

“It’s quite likely,” Anakin nods. “The Force is with you always, but in certain places it is easier to access.”

Luke nods. He hadn’t planned for such a large trip so soon, and it means being inaccessible to the wider New Republic if they need his piloting skills, but the faster they move on Jedi matters the better. The future of the galaxy may rely on the existence of a trained dyad of Force users.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 4, Day 4 (5.5.4.4 ABY)_  
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Ben stares at the contents of his rucksack, spread out across the bed in the guest room that, according to Luke, he’ll soon be vacating. Inter-realm travel was terrible; he hopes interplanetary travel does less of a number on his innards. 

Packing shouldn’t be that hard. He has very few possessions he’s attached to at all, plus a large and impractical wardrobe belonging to the Viceroy-Senator. Luke doesn’t seem to care if people wear the same outfit for days at a time, so most of the Alderaanian garb is going to stay here, in the closet. The ancient Jedi texts can stay behind too. The trick is deciding whether the items he brought from Earth should stay or go.

He hasn’t really used the laptop, but it’s got the pictures of the mysterious letter saved on it. After his second Aurebesh reading lesson with C-3PO a few days prior, he’s been ready to attempt a transliteration of the letter, but he hasn’t had the opportunity. The laptop will come along, he decides. So will his own clothing.

There’s just one last item: the weird, melted black mask that he thinks belonged to his grandfather. He really should just ask Anakin what he wants done with the damn thing, but something makes him pick it up and turn it back and forth in his hands. He closes his eyes and reaches out in the Force, a bit hesitant of what twisted memories of sorrow the relic might show him. Was Anakin wearing it when he died? Did his uncle Luke strike at this mask, in anger and hatred?

As if on call, Ben becomes very aware of the presence of his uncle in the Force. The man is just downstairs. He can feel his mother, too, of course, and the different, muted sensation of Padmé, so dear to him and yet not Force-sensitive. The broader world of the Force spills out beyond the house, and he feels his consciousness accelerating past the dim sparkles of the tens of thousands of life-forms scattering Hanna City and the masses sprinkled around the globe of Chandrila. He feels aware of the sentient beings of the entire galaxy of Ieldraan, their spirits like the sands of the desert. It's like holding Anakin's relic is enhancing his ability to meditate and connect with the Force.

Ben keeps stretching out his feelings. Out beyond this galaxy, farther than he would imagine his consciousness could even dream of, there are still the lights of the Force. Individual lights twinkle at the corners of his mind, some bright and cheerful, others dark and terrible. But one…there is one above all, unique in its warmth, that he is drawn to as he grips the chill black husk in his hands. He feels that it is sucking him in with a vertiginous gravity, like he is falling, and all of a sudden he opens his eyes, gasping. 

And there, on the other side of his guestroom, he sees Rey Santé holding a mop.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. November 23, 2014_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey wipes out the display case and puts in a new tray, now that the last of the ciambelle are sold — basically, artisanal donuts. Sundays have a very different pattern from other days, and now she is settling into the doldrums that is the mid-morning part of the shift. Might as well get some cleaning done.

She grabs mop and bucket and begins to clean the floors, humming along to the _Guardians of the Galaxy Awesome Mix_ soundtrack, just aware enough of her surroundings that if the door chimes, she can hop over to the register and take their order. 

The door doesn’t chime. But when she looks up a few minutes later, Ben Solo is sitting at one of the tables holding an odd black lump in his hands and looking at her with a stunned expression. 

“You’re back?” she asks in surprise and delight, at the same time that he asks “How did you get here?”

“How did I…I work here?” Rey responds in confusion. Ben, also, looks perturbed. “Back? Where do you think I…”

His words are cut off as he lets go of the black object to raise his hands toward her, and promptly fades into invisibility.

Rey’s eyes are wide as saucers. She puts down her mop and diligently explores every nook or crevasse of the cafe. Is she suffering from hallucinations? Ben Solo is a bit large to vanish into thin air, so did she imagine his presence in the first place? Pulling out her phone, she dials Finn. 

“Finn? Can you come into the cafe early? I’m feeling a bit off,” she says breathlessly.

Barely fifteen minutes later her co-manager bursts through the rear employee entrance and rushes to clasp her hand. Finn looks in her eyes, feels her forehead. “What’s wrong, Rey?”

She sits down heavily at _not_ the table Ben had appeared at. “I hallucinated. I don’t think I have a fever, but maybe I stayed up too late working on my thesis project? Thanks for coming in.”

“What kind of a hallucination? Auditory? Visual? Do you get migraines?”

Rey sighs, glad of Finn’s concern but not terribly eager to admit it’s Ben Solo she hallucinated. Luckily, they’re interrupted by the door chiming and a group of three ladies, emerita from one of the area universities, shuffling inside for their weekly Sunday meetup.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 4, Day 4 (5.5.4.4 ABY)_  
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Ben is never going to be able to fall asleep now. What the hell did he experience during that meditation? Was it a vision? He could swear that Rey materialized in his room. Why her? Why a mop of all things? Why did she ask if he was back, and how he got there? And why did this happen when he was holding the creepy helmet?

It does make up his mind on one matter, though: the helmet is getting packed. If it has some sort of weird potential to induce visions, he ought to bring it along and consult Luke or Anakin himself about it. He shoves the relic into his bag, glad to be finished packing. Undressing, he takes off his watch to place it on his bedside table and attempt sleep. Its statements of time and date in Massachusetts seem increasingly irrelevant, but now he wonders what it’s like there, at 11:53 a.m. on November 23rd. His birthday must have passed four days ago, there, making him 28 years old; but here, it’s only the ninth day since they left Earth, leaving him three or four days short of 28 years. He makes a mental note to ask Padmé and Mace how they calculate their age.

It’s his mother who wakes him in the morning after a surprisingly undisturbed night’s sleep. Her eyes are sparkling with mischief, in a way he remembers from a few moments in childhood. “Luke wants us to head off-planet, but he’s afraid to wake you up after what happened last time,” she explains. “I told him I’d do it, but he had to let you pilot the spaceship some of the way.”

“I bet that went over real well,” Ben grumbles.

“Never underestimate my persuasive powers,” Leia says, smiling. “He agreed. I just hope you’re as quick with whatever kind of rocket ship we’re getting ourselves into as you were with that landspeeder the other day.”

Ben laughs. “I’m sure Luke will kick me out of the cockpit in no time if I make the tiniest mistake, but I appreciate your confidence, Mom.”

“Now get some clothes on and let’s blow this rock, all right, son?” Leia is already leaving the room. She’s been proud of him for years, but she only really understood it in the last year or so, after Ben got out of the military where he was so clearly miserable. There had been some rocky moments when he was a teen, like the Choate hacking incident where Padmé had cleaned up while Leia stayed the hell away. Then when he was at the Academy, Leia's addictions hadn't really left her the bandwidth to be very present for her son. But for years now he’s been the skilled, reliable one in the family— not like Han would ever recognize it. She’s kind-of enjoying watching him play off her galactic-savior brother. It’s fun having two such different but amazingly skilled young men in her life.

Farewells with Bail, Padmé, Kaydel and Threepio are brief. The plan is that Luke will train them on the moon called Yavin IV for only a couple of weeks. If they make strides there with their studies, they can gather supplies for a longer period when they return. Bail has arranged for them to borrow a shuttle that is distinguished chiefly by how undistinguished it is. While it isn’t fast, it’ll get them to Yavin in a few days and it’s unlikely to attract any unwanted attention from roving Imperial leftovers.

Several days of travel would be tiring work for one pilot and his astromech, so Luke is willing to take a chance on letting Ben fly. He starts out in the copilot seat, adjusting controls on Luke’s command. Both men have fortified their mental walls effectively, so they manage to collaborate respectfully. By the second day, Luke lets Ben have a stint as the main pilot, and it goes so smoothly that by day three, Luke has left the controls to Ben and R2. The shuttle is far too boring to have any allure for the best X-Wing pilot in the Rebel Alliance, after all. Artoo complains that he feels exactly the same way.

* * *

  
_Massassi Jungle, near Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 6, Day 2 (5.5.6.2 ABY)_  
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

A couple of weeks have passed since they left Chandrila, and Ben is beginning to settle into a routine on this jungle moon. He's grown a beard, and Leia's starting to let her hair grow out, too; both of them are finding the intense Force energy of the planet invigorating. Ben's physical prowess in using the Force is growing by leaps and bounds, even if he still butts heads with Luke every time they attempt to work on the mental abilities. Leia has the exact opposite problem with her brother. So the two Solos have developed a tacit system to manage their Jedi master. Well, if Ben's being honest, it was Anakin's idea to keep Luke off balance by taking turns pissing him off. Ben wonders what kind of relationship his grandfather had with his own master.

In the mornings, Leia meditates with Luke, working on developing their bond, while Ben runs the challenge course Luke has set up to develop sensory perception, jumping, levitation and object manipulation skills. Everyone is successful and in a good mood after that, so they have goodwill to work together before lunch on whatever Jedi research project Luke is on about. So mornings are good.

After lunch Ben meditates half-assedly while Leia, refusing to run the challenge course, goes for a swim in the river. When she returns it’s time for lightsaber forms and maximal Luke annoyance. Leia annoys him because she doesn’t put any energy into it; she looks like she’s doing Sunrise Tai Chi for Seniors at the community center. Ben irritates Luke for the opposite reason: he slashes with a violence and lack of finesse that Luke criticizes. Then Ben will pull out the Djem So holocrons and argue with his uncle endlessly. 

Eventually one or the other will suggest that the best proof of form efficacy is in the fighting, so they’ll spar. Ben’s extensive physical training and larger size and reach allow him to keep up surprisingly well for someone who has mere days of saber training under his belt. He’s especially successful when he remembers to keep open and attuned to the Force; then he can anticipate Luke’s moves better and occasionally push him back telekinetically. He’s still rough, though, and his smaller, younger uncle is incredibly agile, so the eventual outcome is always the same: Luke wins every day and forgets how pissed off he was at Leia and Ben’s various failings as students. Then they have a boring evening meal of rations and retire to their various bunks in the old Rebel base.

This morning Ben is dripping with sweat as he nears the biggest obstacle in the first half of the challenge course. It’s like the jungle is even thicker with humidity than usual. While he normally loves the challenge of trail running, jungle running is a different animal and one he’s had little experience with. There was one operation in Venezuela, but most of his military experience was in Afghanistan, which is about the polar opposite of a jungle. Now as he pushes through the vines that slap at his face, roots seem to grasp at his feet. His sweaty hair is falling down into his eyes and some sort of massive biting insect has taken a chunk out of one calf. 

The obstacle is just ahead: it’s basically a chasm, one that even the world champion of parkour would be hard pressed to leap across. As with most of the obstacles there’s a choice of ways to cross. A narrow, shaky bridge; a sturdy vine for swinging. He’s tried both and they are harrowing. This time there's something inside him telling him to face the fear head-on. He takes a deep breath and trusts to the Force, pushing his speed to the absolute limit as he bursts through the foliage to the edge of the gap and just…leaps.

Reaching out in the Force he feels the thick air around him and imagines pushing off it to shove his body higher. He extends his arms to either side and pistons his legs as he feels himself descending swiftly again to what he hopes is the other side. Only when he crashes into a large shrub festooned with flowers, dislodging a small monkey-like creature, does he realize that he had closed his eyes. Even with them shut, he has somehow made it to the far side of the chasm. He might need to work on his Force-assisted hard landings, though.

A thrill of accomplishment and adrenaline rushes through him as he looks back in amazement at the abyss he’s just surpassed with the Force. But he can’t pause for long if he wants to beat his last time on the course. He wipes the sweat from his forehead and sees something he doesn’t expect, maybe thirty yards off to the side of the course. It looks like a small, pyramidal stone structure, covered in moss and vines. He doesn’t remember it being there before, though he’s not sure how he could have missed an eight foot tall miniature of the great temple where they sleep every night. Maybe he’s usually so overwhelmed after crossing the chasm that he hasn’t properly noticed his surroundings?

He decides to investigate it. At a jog, of course; he hasn’t much time to spare, and it’ll add to his workout. The vines don’t actually give him a lot of trouble getting over to the mini pyramid. It’s as if there’s a path for him, though he knows better. The only thing that routinely travels through the undergrowth around here is a species of giant rodent. 

When he reaches the pyramid, Ben sees just how closely it’s wrapped in jungle foliage. Maybe it’s reasonable that he didn’t spot the structure before. He’s determined to see if it has an entrance before he heads back to the great temple for the morning, so he clambers around the base, pulling at vines in areas that look less thickly covered. Finally he finds a depressed area in the base that must mark where the door was once; it’s piled in thick moss, with a couple of sinister-looking caterpillars creeping through it. Thinking quickly, he pulls the training saber that’s belted to his thigh. It’s designed not to hurt in sparring, but he knows that sustained application to one spot will eventually burn through organic material. Course times forgotten, he uses the saber slowly and deliberately to kill the caterpillars and slice away the vines and moss.

Eventually he’s uncovered stone, just a little bit, and he holsters his saber, reaching in with his hands to pull away fistfuls of moss and rot from the rough surface. When he’s exposed a few square feet of stone, he sees a strange carving on the surface, and runs his hand over it.

The instant his fingers touch the stone of the pyramid, a chill seeps into him. He feels the malign coldness filtering up his veins. It's an odd juxtaposition to the humid vibrancy of the jungle around him, teeming with excessive warmth and life. When the frigid feeling reaches his throat a grey darkness overwhelms his sight. It’s to the distant sound of ancient screams of pain that Ben collapses on the floor of the Massassi jungle. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia knows when her boy is in trouble, Rey is not alone, Mace Windu's vacation is over, and Yoda prophesies doom. All in a week's work.

_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 6, Day 2 (5.5.6.2 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

“Luke. We’ve got to find Ben,” Leia exclaims. She’s just emerged from meditation, during which she had tried to dampen down awareness of anything in the universe besides her bond with her brother. Now her maternal bond is chill and inert in a way that has her very, very worried.

“What?” Luke asks, confused. “He’s on the course, he’ll be back in another five minutes or so like usual.”

“No,” Leia insists, reaching into herself to pull more sensations from her connection with her son. “I know where he is. He’s not coming. We need to go get him.”

Luke raises an eyebrow, looking at her searchingly. Whatever he senses, it’s enough to convince the Jedi Master. He nods. “All right, we’ll do it your way. If you know where he is, how do you propose getting to him quickest?”

He grabs blasters and his proper saber and a couple of helmets, and they hop onto a speeder bike. Leia shouts directions as they weave through the forest, bypassing the challenge course to cut directly toward Ben’s location.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. December 9, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey is pretty wiped after a morning at the cafe, then afternoon and evening classes. But she’s still looking forward to tonight. Tonight, Finn is going to begin the process of moving into the guest room at 11 Cooper Street. He spent the afternoon loading a rental van with his furniture, and any minute now he’ll be turning up to unload them into his new space. Rey is so ready to stop being the only inhabitant of this big old house.

The doorbell rings, and when she goes to answer it Rey is both surprised and pleased to see that Poe is there with Finn. 

“Hey, Rey!” he says cheerfully. “I volunteered to help Finn move the furniture since I know it is upstairs for you guys. So just let me know how I can help!” He smiles in his usual winning way and goes to unlatch the rear of the van. 

Rey winks at Finn. “Nice, I didn’t know you kept seeing Poe!” 

Finn flushes slightly. “He’s a great guy, very friendly. Well, and, I promised I would try _Kindred_ ,” he smiles. “I can’t bring myself to give a shit about graphic novels, but Poe is very persuasive,” he stage whispers.

Rey grins and whispers back, loudly. “By _very persuasive_ , do you mean he has nice thighs?”

Finn sputters and laughs, while Poe shouts “I heard that!” while hopping down from the back of the van. 

The three of them work in concert to unload Finn’s stuff, and in barely an hour he is fully set up in the huge, airy room at the rear of the house. The old guest bed was a futon, and is folded up along one wall to act as a sofa. Over the last few days, Rey has boxed up Padmé’s books and vases from the built-in shelves to give plenty of room for Finn to personalize the space. He’ll bring his books and kitchen wares in his car in a few days. He goes to return the van, leaving Rey and Poe to select a wine to wind down the evening when he gets back.

“So,” Rey starts nonchalantly as she rummages for the wine opener. “Do you ask out literally everyone you meet, or do you just have a thing for cafe managers?”

That gets her a light laugh and a shrug. “I appreciate people. And I like to get to know attractive people, so I don’t hesitate to put myself out there. But I think Finn is pretty unique. I’m hoping I’ll get to see more of him.”

Rey smirks at the implication. “Just know that if you hurt my dearest friend, you will get a free judo experience. I’ll be doing the judo. Hope you know how to fall.”

Poe raises an eyebrow. “I’ll do my best to avoid that situation.”

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 6, Day 2 (5.5.6.2 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

> _It’s all cold, but he can’t shiver. Ben knows that the cold is emanating from the dark figure that blots out his vision. Pain, so much pain; does the pain belong to the sinister figure, or to him? Ah, he thinks, maybe I don’t want the answer to that question. Then from the dark robes, a taloned hand emerges, slicing viciously into his chest. Now a second hand. Together the talons pull apart his ribcage with superhuman strength and a claw pulls back, holding his beating heart in its grasp…_

“Ben, Ben, wake up!” Leia shouts, slapping his face hard. It’s not her preferred mode of parenting but she is so scared. It works; his breathing returns with a shuddering gasp and he sits up so fast he clocks her with his forehead.

“Whoa, whoa there,” Luke murmurs in full-on serene Jedi master mode. “This is a strange place you’ve discovered, Ben, and we need to know exactly what happened.” He passes his nephew a canteen and then fixes him with those intense blue eyes. “Tell us what you saw.”

“Can’t we just be glad he’s safe?” mutters Leia. She’s wrapped an arm around her son’s shoulder. Her heart is still beating faster than is probably healthy. Ben’s eyes are still closed and he’s mumbling incoherently, but at least he feels like he’s there through the bond. “Go secure the perimeter or whatever, Ben isn’t ready to answer your questions.” 

Luke sighs, but stalks off around the vine-covered pyramid, blaster and lightsaber at the ready. Leia is glad to see Ben blink back into lucidity a minute later.

“Mom? What are you doing here? I got knocked out.”

Leia smiles at him to hide her worry. “I felt something wrong through our bond when I came out of my meditation. Luke wants to ask you all sorts of questions about what happened. He’s scouting the area right now.”

“I hope he knows better than I did and doesn’t touch the stone pyramid,” Ben shivers. Moments later Luke appears, looking relieved to see Ben is alert. 

“Didn’t find any hostiles or anything. Just a half-eaten corpse of a jungle cat ‘round the other side. Now, what happened?”

Ben describes how he had been doing well on the course, saw the structure, pulled away the vines and moss and touched the carving. “I don’t recommend touching it. Look, it’s right here.”

Luke follows him over to the pyramid and inspects it. “This is really old, and as far as I can tell the carving might be Sith runes rather than Jedi ones. My father told me this planet had been important to both Jedi and Sith. Let me see if I can discern anything.”

He drops into a meditative pose, reaching his hand out toward the structure. Leia offers Ben a water bottle. He drinks deeply, wiping his mouth with the shoulder of his shirt. After a few minutes, Luke emerges from his trance, a frown clouding his brow. 

“Bad things happened here. Probably human sacrifice in Sith rituals. There are still Force-sensitive relics inside, though, so I’ve got to make some attempt to secure them. The last thing we need is wannabe Sith cultists running around finding that sort of ammunition,” Luke reasons.

Ben raises an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, boss.” He watches as his uncle uses the Force to strip the moss and vines away from the stone without touching it. 

“Focus with me, will you, Leia?” Luke asks. “I’m trying to find the way through this door.” The twins join hands and reach out in the Force, exploring every crevice and weak point of the stone pyramid. Ben was correct about the location of the door, and eventually Luke and Leia begin to minutely shift the large stone that blocks passage. Ben, too, lifts his hand and focuses on pulling the obstruction out of the way, and with the combined efforts of the three Force users, it is only a few minutes before they have an opening.

Luke ignites his saber and ducks into the musty, airless darkness of the interior. “You two coming?”

“No thanks, I don’t want to risk passing out again if I touch it,” Ben says. 

Leia shakes her head. “I’ve never thought of myself as claustrophobic, but looking at that tunnel gives me the creeps.”

Rolling his eyes, Luke boldly enters the pyramid. It seems to be larger on the interior than it looks from the outside, because he’s gone for nearly ten minutes. When he comes out, he’s disgustedly wiping thick webs off his arms. His jacket is bundled up under his arm. 

“What did you find?” Ben asks.

Luke scowls, unwrapping the bundle. It’s a small crystalline pyramid, odd lights dancing in its interior. “Sith holocron, if the Jedi texts are correct about what they looked like. I've never actually seen one before. I need to study the correct procedures for destroying it.”

“Could we study it first? If there are questions about whether Darth Sidious is still out there, we probably need to know all we can about the Sith,” Ben reasons.

“Too dangerous,” Luke shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at Ben. “Don’t let curiosity lead you on the path to the Dark Side.”

Ben nods at his master, lips tight. Luke is so pig-headed about this division between Dark and Light, except when it comes to his cheerful relationship with Anakin’s Force ghost. That’s it, Ben thinks. He’ll talk to Anakin about the holocron. Maybe his grandfather will see the value in gathering knowledge about their enemy.

For now, the three of them need to get back to base. All three of them can’t fit on the speeder, so Leia offers to walk back with Ben. He waves her off.

“That’s ok, Mom,” he says. “I’m feeling better now. I’ll jog the rest of the course so I don’t feel like the whole morning is wasted.”

“No more touching creepy ruins, though, okay?” she urges. “I don’t want to have to come rescue you any more times.” 

Luke guns the engine and they sweep off through the dense greenery. A brief moment of memory flashes up in Leia’s mind. She’s wandering on a forest path with her young son; Ben’s probably three or four years old, so it’s right at the end of the Eighties. The memory is suffused with the odor of marijuana, as so much of her “home life” was at that time; for parties and on set, she preferred cocaine, but she liked to think of herself as a gentle and connected mother, so it was with a spliff dangling between the fingers of her left hand that she skipped through the forest. Thinking back, it must have been the trip to Redwood National Forest. Han was back at the cabin, on the phone long distance arguing with record producers, while she and Ben wandered around the bases of the huge trees. He would find some cool rock or seed or twig and show it to her, or pretend that he was a cowboy and take potshots at invisible cattle rustlers, all while she floated on a cloud of drug-induced aestheticism. 

It’s different now. (Obviously.) Since leaving Earth, she’s able to feel the spot in her soul where her love for her son resides. At least, that’s how she’s taken to thinking about the Force bond. How much she missed out on, not being able to sense him. How much she wishes she had been better, had strengthened that link, even in normal Earth ways, by being a bit less zonked all the time.

The slap of a large flying insect being killed on impact with her goggles shakes her from her reverie, and before long she’s back at Base One. Much to her relief, Ben does, in fact, jog in fifteen minutes later without further incident. 

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. December 12, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

“Congratulations!” Rey exclaims as Finn shrugs off his coat and scarf and gloves and hiking boots. He smiles broadly and extends his arms for a hug. “I know you don’t get to walk until May, but you’re finished with classes and that’s awesome!”

“Time for a celebration,” he answers, and pulls a bottle of cheap cava from his backpack. “No more making the trek to Suffolk! And I can take on more of the cafe workload for the next few months. It’s your turn to finish school, babe.”

Rey grimaces. “Don’t remind me. This semester was good, but with the senior thesis it just feels like no matter how much work I put into it, then more work opens up that I could do. Like, my advisor suggested that if I finish writing up a couple months early I could submit it for publication in a journal.”

“That’s great. So why not? Do you have hard major classes left for second semester senior year or something?” Finn asks as he selects wine glasses from the cabinet and pops the cork.

“My classes aren’t the issue,” Rey sighs. “It’s just a lot of extra research if I’m not fully committed to grad school in robotics. I could help you more with the cafe and devote more effort to my job search if I make it clear right now that I’m not expanding the thesis work beyond the original scope.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Finn replies. “I’m great and the cafe is great. Padmé left us a well-oiled machine. I want you to be happy. Why don’t you wrap what you need to do for the semester and then take a few days to relax? Read your adventure novels or tinker with your car or what have you?”

“Don’t remind me,” Rey says as they clink glasses. She takes a sip, smiling, and opens the fridge to bring out the overpriced but delicious celebratory snacks she snagged from Sofra. “I was driving around earlier and the steering is acting up again. I think it might be time for me to go car-free. Padmé encouraged me to drive her car while she was gone anyway, and I could save a lot of money if I wasn’t paying auto insurance on the Corolla.”

“Makes sense to me,” Finn nods. “I don’t know why you didn’t get rid of that beat up little wagon ages ago. It’s what, like twenty years old at this point?”

“Yeah, at least,” Rey says. “Part of it I think is the fact that I lived in that car. Back when I lost my scholarship. So it’s like, if I get rid of it, what’s going to happen if things go bad for me again? No, I know,” she waves off the beginning of Finn protesting, because obviously, she has at least a couple friends now and worrying isn’t logical, “I know you would help me, I know Padmé won’t kick me out and charges ridiculously low rent, all that stuff. It’s just how I feel, you know?”

“I know,” Finn responds with a look that tells her he really, really does. 

“The other factor,” Rey continues, “is that my father was really adamant that I keep the car. He gave it to me when I went to college, and made me promise I’d keep it. _This car will get you everywhere you need to go_ , he used to say. It’s true, Toyotas are reliable as hell, I can’t remember a time before he had this car. And when he suddenly died, after not even telling me he was sick, it was all I had left from him except a few photos and judo awards, you know? And the way he told me to keep the car, it felt more serious than just _hey, getting a new car would be a bad financial decision_. So when I think about getting rid of it since I don’t need it right now, it just feels wrong.”

Finn shakes his head. “I can help you sell it privately. We can find another young person who needs wheels for their job, someone who the car will matter to. Then you’ll feel better about it.”

Rey smiles. “That sounds like something I could live with. I just have to do a few repairs before I’d feel right passing it on. You're right that I'll probably sort everything else out in my head while I'm under the bonnet. Now, what sounds good for dinner?”

“Me cooking,” Finn grins. “Next weekend Poe is taking me out to Craigie on Main”—he ignores Rey’s whistle of appreciation—”and I feel bad that you’re not invited, so I bought some steaks to butter you up in advance. How do you like yours done?”

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 6, Day 4 (5.5.6.4 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

“Luke, you’ve had that relic from when I got knocked out hidden away in your bunkroom for two days now. Can we study it together, or at least discuss it with the old Masters?” Ben asks as they’re about to start the Jedi research part of the morning, hoping that after a successful meditation his uncle will be more approachable about the matter. He’s burning with curiosity.

“No deal,” Luke shakes his head, talking around a mouthful of protein bar. “That thing is dangerous. It should be destroyed.”

“So, what, it’s not dangerous for you to use it as a teddy bear? Dude, you didn’t destroy an _actual Sith lord_ , your father, because you felt there was good in him. Isn’t it possible there’s some good in learning what this thing holds? I went through a lot, and you took a lot of risks to get that thing. It’s not like you have an enormous library of Jedi holocrons to study from.”

“A person can have good in them. I’d hazard that pretty much all of them except Palpatine do. But that little pyramid is just a tool of evil. No. Not doing it,” Luke is adamant.

“Luke, I understand your concern,” Leia interrupts diplomatically. “Chances are the Force ghosts will share it. They’d also know the safest way to destroy such a thing, if that’s what you decide to do. Ben is right that consulting with them about it would be wise.”

Luke sighs, then shrugs. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ll reach out to Obi-Wan and we can all get together and discuss.” He disposes of the protein bar wrapper, loping back to the meditation room with a palpable irritation in his tense posture.

Ben frowns at the retreating form. “You know how women are always writing those articles in business magazines about how they say an idea in meetings, and it gets ignored, but if a man repeats the idea then he gets praised?”

Leia shrugs. “I’ve heard the complaint, sure. And I’ve contributed quite a few lines to my movies and seen the credit go to the guys in the room. Why?”

“I never knew how it felt until I tried to have a conversation with Luke. He never listens to a word that comes out of my mouth unless you or Anakin repeat it.”

Leia laughs. “Never thought you’d see the day when someone was immune to the Solo force of personality, huh?”

“I wish that was it, Mom,” Ben sighs. “It’s like he thinks my ideas are like evil or dangerous or something. Master Uncle needs to get over himself and chill the fuck out.”

Now it’s Leia’s turn to shrug. “We’ll see what the old ghosts have to say.”

* * *

  
_Thor’s Hall. In the Reign of Odin Allfather._   
_Asgard_

Mace Windu hums to himself as he carefully folds the long brown robe and stows it in his suitcase. He’ll bring the saber and comm along to Midgard this time; although using the saber there is strictly forbidden and the comm only works within Ieldraan galactic space, it’s always possible he’ll have to jump directly from Earth to Ieldraan one of these days, bypassing Asgard. He doesn’t need an extra errand to pick up his lightsaber from Thor’s guest chambers if Luke or Padmé is in urgent need.

“I can see you thinking, man. Stop thinking so hard. Or else tell me what is worrying you,” Thor needles him lightly from an enormous brocade armchair by the French doors. 

“I’m thinking I won’t leave my equipment behind this time. If the threats of Palpatine are real, I may need to wayfind directly from Earth to Ieldraan to help our young friends and Padmé one of these days.”

Thor tilts his head to one side, nodding. “I see your point, and no one would object to you doing so. But Midgard is full of petty criminals and is a hard world to find things in once they are lost,” he says, a shadow crossing his face. “Plus, I don’t know how you would learn of their need without an emissary such as myself coming to inform you of it. I would be honored to bring your Jedi equipment.”

“I’m actually hoping the saber itself might help me with that. You know how Mjolnir retains some of its power even on Earth? Young Ben was asking me if there were any way to communicate between worlds, and I told him there isn’t. But have we ever experimented with kyber crystals?”

Thor frowns. “Not that I know of. But you have been traveling the realms as a Jedi protector since before I was born. I’ll be interested to hear if you have any results from your experiment, and we can present them to Odin together.”

“Thank you.” Mace nods, putting the last of his few traveling possessions in the suitcase and shutting it. He slips on the leather greatcoat and checks his holsters, completing the transition back to Agent Nick Fury’s customary garb. “I’ll be back in an Earth week or two, not that you’ll notice. Hopefully SHIELD will run itself one of these days and I can retire into the sunset. Or Luke will train up enough new Jedi that I can hand over the reins as Protector. I’m getting too old for this superfast time passing shit they got going on on Earth.”

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 6, Day 4 (5.5.6.4 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

“The future, shrouded it is. Never possible to know certainly.” The diminutive, wrinked ghost looks contemplative as usual. Leia still hasn’t gotten used to Master Yoda’s manner of speaking, but since the other Force users respect him, she tries to listen. Hopefully they can get done with this stupid argument soon. Master Kenobi has taken Luke’s position unequivocally: the Sith relic is dangerous and should be destroyed, which can be easily done by smashing it. 

Anakin is more open to Ben’s position and admits that if Darth Sidious did in fact survive him, he must be hidden from the Force in some way that Anakin did not learn. So they will need to investigate more ancient Sith knowledge if they are to fully explore that possibility. Though he cautions that they’re unlikely to gain much from Sith holocrons, since they only open in the presence of a _living_ Dark Side user or a bled kyber crystal. 

_What’s that_ , Luke whispers to Obi-Wan. _You don’t want to know_ , the elder ghost murmurs, reflexively gesturing with two fingers as if he could influence Luke’s mind.

Master Yoda seems unwilling to speak clearly on one side or the other. Reaching out with her feelings, Leia senses that he is sympathetic toward Ben, but suspicious of Anakin and Sith materials generally. He’s still talking.

“If destroy it you do, careful you must be,” says the little ghost, walking slowly around the small pyramid they have been debating and poking it with his ethereal stick. The relic shifts. “Powerful is the force of evil in this relic. What you see inside, a fragment of the Aether it is called. In the ten realms great strife did the Aether cause between the Asgardians and the Dark Elves. Very dangerous it is. Possess and destroy your body it can.”

“How did the Sith get hold of something from the Asgardians and the Dark Elves?” Luke asks, bewildered. 

“Answers have I few. How to protect yourself from the evil Aether if you destroy its container, I do not know.” The aged Master sits down, leaning on his cane. “The way to finding out the fate of Sidious is a dangerous one. Fall away from the Jedi path, one of you may. From studying this Sith relic it will not be, but from anger, fear, hatred.”

The ghost of Master Kenobi frowns and strokes his neat white beard. “Master Yoda speaks correctly. There is greater danger to each of you from the substance contained within this relic, should you destroy it, than from whatever ancient Sith learnings it conceals. I feel the truth of what he says. Luke, I have changed my mind. Study it or lock it away, but do not smash it and do not let it fall into enemy hands. And always protect yourself from the traps of the Dark Side, from fear and anger.”

“Thank you, Masters,” Anakin’s ghost says tersely. The three images fade out, leaving a very troubled-looking Luke Skywalker staring at the malign object on the ground before him. Leia and Ben unfold their legs, standing up. 

“I’ll get us some lunch trays from the commissary,” Ben offers, hoping to avoid further argument now that the balance of Jedi wisdom has come down on his side.

Leia puts a comforting hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Let’s put that away somewhere safe for now, okay? I can tell you’re worried that Yoda said one of us will fall to the Dark Side. It might not be what it seems.”

Luke shakes his head, still staring at the pyramidal crystal with its dancing, evil lights. “I hope you’re right. When Yoda and Ben told me I had to face my father, it really sounded like they were saying I had to kill him. And I was ready to. Luckily it didn’t turn out that way. Maybe this is another deceptive prophecy.”

“We can only hope,” Leia offers with a small smile.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé can tell you a thing or two about Aether, Rey maybe wishes she _was_ alone, Nick Fury tackles his to-do list, and so does Ben.

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 6, Day 4 (5.5.6.4 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

Every few days, the planetary rotations and busy schedules of the team on Chandrila align enough with their friends on Yavin IV to connect over holocomm. Leia reaches Padmé this time, so after the usual exchange of assurances that everyone is in good health, she tries to explain the events of the week without scaring her mother. 

“Ben was out running the Jedi training course as usual, and he found a little ancient temple. Something about it knocked him out, which I noticed through our bond, so Luke and I went and checked on him. Luke explored the temple and found a Sith artifact,” she recounts.

“That sounds dangerous. I’ll have to have a word with Anakin about sending you to a planet full of Sith traps,” Padmé says, frowning.

“We talked with him already. With all three of Luke’s ghost masters, really. Luke and Obi-Wan wanted to destroy it, but Yoda told them that it had something inside it called a fragment of Aether and it would be better to leave it contained.”

Padmé looks stunned. “Did you say Aether, Leia? Is it a scary black and red smoke type of thing?”

“Could be,” her daughter shrugs. “Kinda looks like someone put cursed Christmas lights in a crystal pyramid and carved some kabbala symbols on it. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Padmé’s hologram sits down abruptly. “Leia, I’ve encountered the Aether. Much more than a fragment. As far as Odin knew, what I found was the entirety of it.” She pauses. “I encountered it when I was researching gravitational anomalies, back when I was with Thor. It possessed my body and was killing me. All the doctors in Asgard couldn’t save me, and Thor and Loki had to confront the Dark Elves to get it out of me. Loki died in the battle. Whatever Yoda told you, avoid that thing like the plague. I swear to you, it is many times more powerful and more evil than you can imagine.”

Leia’s eyes are open wide as she processes this unexpected revelation from her mother. How little she knows about the woman she grew up with. What strange and terrible things Padmé had seen, even before becoming a galactic senator. 

“Don’t worry, Mother, I’m in no hurry to mess with the Aether,” Leia assures Padmé. “Wouldn’t hurt to tell your warnings to the boys, though. Luke was ready to smash the thing and Ben wants to try to learn from it. I think Father is egging him on so he has something to do.”

Padmé shakes her head. “My husband, my son, and my grandson — these goof-offs are supposed to save the galaxy? Good luck, Leia.” She looks at her chronometer, then offers a wave. “Time for me to go. Bail and I are hosting Senator Harmodius to dinner tonight to finalize the gala for the midyear holiday. Will you be back by then?”

Leia thinks carefully, then shrugs. “I don’t understand the calendar here yet so I can’t tell you for sure, but as long as it’s in more than a week it’s possible we’ll be back.”

Padmé nods. “Thanks, dear. May the Force be with you.”

* * *

_Washington, DC. December 17, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Nick Fury watches as Agents Johnson and Chiu file out of his office, the door clicking shut gently behind them. He nods in satisfaction, steepling his fingers. The young agents these days are good. Very good. While he’s been off-planet for two months, there haven’t been any emergencies, any explosions. Everything’s just ticking along as it should. The two junior agents he’s just been debriefing had in fact defused a quite testy situation involving an Iranian agent at the SHIELD secure storage facility. 

Maybe someday he will actually get to retire.

That reminds him — in addition to the various messages he’s carrying and things he needs to check up on for the Jedi, he had a little project of his own. It’s 5:30 p.m. now, so no one will need him any more this evening except in an emergency. 

Fury pulls out his trusty yoga pillow and adjusts the thermostat in the office up a degree or two. He pulls off his black cable-knit sweater and unbuckles his holster, laying it gently on his large mahogany desk on top of the sweater. Then, using a complicated series of taps, he activates a hidden drawer in the desk. It slides out to reveal a retinal scanner.

Passing the retinal scan, Fury taps in a second code, which causes a concealed panel in the side of the desk to pop out. In this compartment are a few irreplaceable items, things he doesn’t want to leave in the apartment where he rarely spends any time. His military medals are there, and important documents dating back to when he began his term as Realm Protector back in the first years of the twentieth century. Those first fake birth certificates and passports describe him as one Nicolas Fourier, of Gabon; he spent the first three decades of his term as a commandant in the French Foreign Legion, reporting back to the Jedi from all over the globe. With the second World War, it became opportune to create a new identity in the United States.

Today, he’s retrieving something from the drawer that has been there only a couple of days: his lightsaber. Fury is eager to see if his kyber crystal retains any capacity for interacting with the living Force on this dreadfully Forceless planet. Chances are the experiment will be a failure; after all, the Asgardians and the Jedi have been sending Protectors to Midgard for a long time. Presumably someone would have thought of trying this before.

Fury settles on his meditation pillow and breathes out, clearing his mind. He reaches out, sensing the pulsing warmth of the kyber crystal in his saber. It retains its power; as he focuses on the Force vibrating within it, the saber floats out of his lap and comes to rest an arm’s length in front of his face. There it sits, spinning gently. 

Around him, reach out as he may, Mace Windu senses nothing but emptiness. 

But there are few more persistent beings in the ten realms, so he perseveres. He will meditate all night if that is what it takes to use his kyber crystal to connect to other realms. And if he fails, so be it. 

As they would say here on Earth, “try” is, in fact, a thing. Yoda can take it up with him later.

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 7, Day 1 (5.5.7.1 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

Luke and Anakin were right about one thing. Staying on Yavin IV has made it much easier to connect with and manipulate the Force. Ben isn’t even dreading meditation as he puts away his lunch tray and heads for his bunkroom, which is a decided improvement over two weeks ago when they arrived. 

Luke gives Ben and Leia different goals to work on in their meditation. For Leia, the focus is clear: she and Luke work together on developing their bond and nurturing their ability to collaborate. For Ben, Luke is experimenting with different training approaches. Using meditation as anger management only worked so well — like, not very — so next Luke instructed Ben to try to connect with other life-forms. He managed to aggravate a runyip and cause a whole family of woolamanders to pass out and fall out of their tree, so that experiment was written off as well. 

This week Ben is working on a more analytic and detached form of awareness. Luke has asked him to create a sort of star map of Force users, beginning with getting to know Luke and Leia’s own Force signatures thoroughly enough that he would recognize them anywhere. From there, he is to stretch out his senses across the galaxy, looking for unidentified Force sensitives and other people or locations of interest.

Ben settles on a mat on the floor of his bunkroom. He doesn’t meditate in the meditation room any more, because there is a certain chance of emerging from meditation to find Luke lurking, staring at him in a way that he finds vaguely creepy. The bunkroom is dark and slightly musty, so he starts with a bit of unassigned practice: igniting a stick of incense with the Force. The incense is Nabooian, apparently, and Padmé asked him to treat it with reverence; apparently the people of the planet she used to lead employ it only in memorial ceremonies. Ben finds it effectively dissociates him from his tendency to anger and puts him in an appropriate mental frame for meditation, with the added bonus of covering the smell of old blankets.

He hopes that whatever dead Naboo his grandmother wants him to honor find that a suitable function for their incense.

Ben breathes deeply, shutting his eyes and resting his hands loosely over his knees. As Luke suggested, he focuses first on Yavin IV. It is a biome bursting with Force energy, both from the life-forms in the jungle and from the echoes of its complex Jedi and Sith history. From that vibrant buzz, he works to isolate first the deep, permeating blue glow of his mother, and then the green floodlight of his uncle. 

Presumably the point of this part of the exercise it to be able to locate other Jedi. Ben hopes that by doing even more than he is assigned, he may impress Luke with how committed he is to mastering the Jedi arts and his uncle might stop thinking he’s some kind of impediment. So he reaches out very carefully, identifying that his mother is just at the edge of the jungle — he would guess around the landing platforms, surrounded by the Force energy of other sentients, so probably chatting with some of the pilots and mechanics before her daily swim.

Luke’s bright light is extra bright because it is so near. He must be elsewhere within the temple complex. But there’s something odd about his Force signature; it’s like a crescent shaped chunk is cut out of one side of the usual green glow. Ben concentrates carefully on mapping it out. If he focuses true, it seems that Luke is very near a sort of black hole of the Force, a tiny cold darkness that devours all light around it. That’s no sentient being, no animal, at least not any sort that Ben has observed before. He’ll have to ask Luke what it could be.

For now he moves out into the next phase of his meditation, exploring the Yavin system. There shouldn’t be living creatures in space between the gas giant and its moons, but again Ben is picking up a reading he doesn’t expect. It’s like there is a sprinkling of little sparkles orbiting around one of the moons. Ben shakes his head, wondering at why he’s picking up things that don’t make any sense. But he perseveres.

A thorough scan in the Force does not reveal any living beings of extraordinary Force potential in the Yavin system besides the three obvious candidates. So he reaches out yet again to encompass the entire galaxy in his search. This is where it gets tricky. Obviously there are some undetected Force sensitives out there, but tracking them down is still a challenge for someone who has very little awareness of the geography of Ieldraan. (Not to mention that if he is picking up impossibilities, like a Force-sensitive belt for a moon of Yavin, who knows what the lights he sees signify.) 

As it turns out, though, he has very little time to worry about Ieldraan. The Force has other plans, and floating on a stream of incense-tinged awareness, Ben is whisked out into the beyond to contemplate all the realms. He can sense the liveliness and diversity, the balance and almost rightness, of Ieldraan beneath him. The blazing energy, near blinding, that must be Asgard. A bunch of other realms he’s never visited: one warm and green and joyous, one so dark it is almost absent, rather like a large version of the darkness near Luke. Sensing it his heart fills with foreboding. 

Two realms in particular, far off though in different directions, attract his attention in this vision. One is very dark and cold, with a light that is so dim he can’t tell if it’s blue or red. There is something evil there, and it seeps towards him. He shrinks back, hoping to put anything between himself and that entity. 

Moving back pushes him toward the zone that he thinks must stand in for Earth. It’s the darkest of the realms in its near total absence of Force energy, but there are a few exceptions. He doesn’t remember there being a few exceptions when he was cast out among the realms in a meditation once before. But today, there are definitely at least two lights in Midgard.

One is absolutely minuscule. It’s purple and faint. It feels familiar and right, reassuring in its glow. Ben would like to know who or what generates this Force signature. He wouldn’t mind it if his own Force signature read like that to other people (which reminds him, he should ask Luke and Mom what his is like). 

The other pulsing Force signature in Midgard is familiar in a different way. As he contemplates it, mesmerized body and spirit, it comes to him: This is the seductive and delightful golden light that had pulled him from his meditation back on Chandrila, right before he was gifted or cursed with that sudden vision of Rey with the mop. (An odd scene he hasn’t managed to reconcile with reality.) What will happen if he concentrates on the light?

Unfortunately, Ben will never know. He feels a tug on the maternal bond and hears a loud knock on his door. “Ben, it’s your mother,” the call comes. “You’ve been meditating for three hours, are you ok? Or have aliens replaced my son?”

* * *

  
_Everett, Massachusetts. December 18, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

City Hall in Everett is ugly as hell, Nick Fury thinks as he looks up at its three stories of blue rectangles and crank windows. It’s a style of architecture usually associated with elementary schools from the 1950s or ‘60s, enacted on a large scale. But he’s not here for an aesthetic experience; that’s what he vacations in Asgard for. So he pushes on to the front door.

As it turns out, little consultation with City Hall is needed. The staff have no problem complying with requests from his agency. The death certificate is totally ordinary. Lorne Sant’ Ecca died in a distressingly normal American way. Lacking adequate health care for many years, he fell into a diabetic coma while doing home repairs. Nobody figured out how to notify his daughter, who lived in the very next town, until after he was dead and buried. 

Fury visits the gravesite and uses SHIELD pocket scanners to confirm that there is in fact a body buried there. He wonders about the daughter. Wasn’t San Tekka some kind of ascetic wandering Jedi cultist? Why would he have a daughter? And whatever Regina Sant’ Ecca was doing two years ago, she’s since disappeared. No one of that name is enrolled at Tufts.

Medical, financial, business records: they all say the same. Even requests faxed to the IRS and the Massachusetts Department of Transitional Assistance turn up the same picture. Lorne Sant’ Ecca lived a totally normal American life. He hovered at the poverty line, got some food assistance but basically no medical care, operated a small business, filed his taxes on time, sent his daughter to public school, cashed checks at the Western Union, bought a car on credit and spent six years paying it off. He was undocumented when he showed up in 1999, and who exactly possessed title to the small building where he lived and operated his judo dojo— that was unclear. But he never again did anything unusual or crossed paths with the law.

Well, it's frustrating that meditating with the kyber crystal didn't allow him to connect with the Force, and that his archival research isn’t turning up any thrilling revelations. But at least one loose end is tied up: the Force user Thor lost on Earth 15 years ago is confirmed dead. On to the next essential errand.

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 7, Day 2 (5.5.7.2 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

Ben washes off in the sonic refresher — what a strange, but ecologically smart, concept — and heads back to his room to pack. The leaders of the New Republic have convinced Luke that he needs to be present for the galactic midyear holiday gala on Chandrila. He is, after all, the Jedi hero of the Rebellion. Rather than hang out in a repurposed temple in the jungle eating military rations, Ben and Leia are going along for the ride. It will be nice to spend time with Padmé and Bail, even if it means putting on a ridiculous Alderaanian suit and shaking hands with dignitaries.

Packing to go back is easier than packing to come out here. It’s always the way. Just shove everything in. He puts his running shoes in the bottom, his hand brushing the small laptop that hasn't left the bag. It reminds him he hasn't yet transcribed the mysterious letter in Aurebesh from his grandmother’s room back home. 

He puts the laptop on the unmade bed and finishes packing all his possessions in the rucksack. The melted helmet goes in last; he wonders how much longer he’s going to drag the weird thing around. He should just talk with Anakin about how he wants it disposed of. 

Fully packed, he powers on the laptop and opens the first digital photo of the letter. It’s written in a clear, bold, beautiful hand of Aurebesh. Ben’s transliteration skills are still not great, since he hasn’t exactly been studying a lot while they’ve been here. The Jedi texts Luke studies are in a more ancient script which will be an even longer project to learn. 

He starts to copy out the letter painstakingly in another document, occasionally consulting his notes from Threepio’s lesson on a datapad as he encounters rarer letters.

> _Dear Jane and Nick,_
> 
> _I send you this letter by the hand of a man I would trust with my very life. Lor San Tekka is a disciple of the Force and has long served my family. He brings with him two treasures, which I commit to your protection._
> 
> _As you know, in Asgard it is impossible to age, so we have a tradition …_

Ben’s door slides open. It’s Leia, breathless. “That’s where you are! Come on,” she calls. Ben jumps up from his seat, dropping everything, suddenly aware that he was supposed to be at the hangar fifteen minutes ago.

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m ready to go.” Ben shoves his datapad into the rucksack, not noticing the laptop that is buried in a duvet on the bed. They make it to the shuttle in two minutes flat, and Luke starts the takeoff sequence before the ramp is even fully closed. 

“What’s the rush?” Ben asks as he joins Luke and Artoo in the cockpit. Luke just glowers at him. “Look, I’m sorry, all right? I lost track of time. Won’t happen again.”

Ben doesn’t notice that he also lost track of his laptop until he settles into his bunk after a shift at the helm. “Fuck,” he curses. Just when it was getting interesting. What’s the tradition of the Asgardians, and what happened to the two treasures? Now he has to wait until the next trip to Yavin to find out. If only he hadn’t put off reading it for so long.

* * *

_Somerville, Massachusetts. December 20, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

The crashing sound is so loud Rey can hear it over the music playing in her earbuds. She takes one out, tentatively. She had been watching a movie on her laptop when Finn got home from his date night, Poe in tow. Rey did them the courtesy to stay in her room, but apparently out of sight is out of mind; after a brief period of television in the living room, they’d retired to Finn’s room and initiated some serious moaning. That’s when she’d switched to her loudest music playlist and a Dickens novel.

The crash has been followed by other clattering noises from the bathroom. If she had to guess, Rey would bet that the shower curtain rod has fallen down. Unfortunately, the clattering noises are soon followed by sex noises; the boys must be christening the clawfoot tub. Finn’s room is off at the back of the house, so that wasn’t really that bad, but the bathroom is directly adjacent to Rey’s room. She’s suddenly realizing just how good she had it, sharing the floor with only a septuagenarian woman. And if Ben has a sex life, it doesn't happen in his grandmother’s house, at least based on the fact he never brought a date home. Rey hadn't had to suffer from furniture pounding noises while living downstairs from him.

Thinking of Ben, Rey realizes she does have an escape option from her current awkward situation. He had said she could take over his room if he and Padmé didn’t return after a few months. So he certainly wouldn’t mind if she camped out up there for one night, would he? She grabs her book, phone, charger, water bottle, and pillow, and slips out of her room quietly, pulling the door shut behind her so Finn won’t worry that he was disturbing her.

Rey ascends the stairs to the third floor quietly, dumping her stuff on the futon where she plans to camp out. Though, since there isn’t a proper door separating Ben’s work loft space from the stairway, she can unfortunately still hear the passionate moaning and slapping noises filtering up from the bathroom. She sighs. If she were really to move up here, obviously she’d take over the giant bed too, right? So he can’t mind. 

She takes her phone and other stuff into Ben’s room, turning on the warm reading light with its deep green shade and shutting the door behind her. Silence, blessed silence. She puts the book aside — it’s too late to keep her eyes open, now that she’s not disturbed by noise — and pulls back the blankets. As she settles herself in Ben’s bed, she sees a bit of street light filtering in through the window, a window she hadn’t noticed when she was up here outfitting Ben as Indiana Jones. A bookshelf towers on one side of the window, a heavy armoire (one of two in the not over-large room) on the other. The room is tidy, everything in its proper place, though he certainly doesn’t lack for possessions. 

She pulls up the blankets and switches on the light after checking her phone alarm. It might be a bit of a chore rousing Finn for the cafe in the morning. Rey enjoys the silence and luxuriates in the comfort of the big bed. She can almost imagine it still smells like Ben. The thought is somehow soothing and she is deeply asleep in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Carrie Fisher loved to decorate everywhere she went with Christmas lights. I wonder how she would have felt about decorating with Sith wayfinders.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas! Not your usual Skywalker-Solo family meal disaster, mind you, but its own special brand of disaster nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in mind that Han Solo's career has been modeled on a combo of Harrison Ford and Richard Branson, so he knows all about success and money -- but he is not a great human being at this point. He and Leia have been separated for well over a decade. Han will do some crappy stuff before he gets his act together. It is the Solo way.  
> Also, I have gotten my hands on Photoshop to try to do some edits to improve the photos on my moodboards...I still am not skilled at aesthetics, but hey. It's fun to mess around with. This time you get Ben Solo in fancy Alderaanian collars. :)

_Somewhere over Reno, Nevada. December 25, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Han Solo, Knight Bachelor of the British Empire, is an American by birth and a man of the people by inclination. So of course when he wants to fly from London to Los Angeles he does it in the first class cabin of his own Solo Atlantic direct flight rather than in a private jet. It’s more sociable this way, too. Makes Christmas less lonely to spend it joking with the stewardesses and complimenting his pilots, taking selfies with some passengers who recognize his ruggedly handsome visage.

Miss Sharest elected not to spend her Christmas holidays squiring him around California, so he’s on his own for the moment. She’s arranged for a Solo America VP to show him around on Monday and Tuesday, but he has the weekend and the New Year’s holiday to entertain himself. He’s booked a plane for skydiving at the weekend, and he plans to stop in this afternoon and surprise Leia at Chroma Wellness. Now there’s just the matter of New Year’s — finding the right party and the right person to attend it with.

Falthina has arranged some invitations. He can be a guest commentator on a New Year’s countdown live broadcast. There’s a party with a bunch of film execs who would inevitably try to sucker him into investments he’s never wanted to make. Or he can go to a gala at the Getty Villa. Han contemplates for a moment. He’s been lacking a bit in the female companionship dimension lately, so a party it is. He pulls up the Solo Group’s Solo Love app on his phone (cheekily named by some junior marketing executive) and arranges a date with some properly vetted model who doesn’t object to married men. (His SuperPlatinum status ensures he only sees the best date options, not catfishers and overweight housewives.)

The plane lands in the early afternoon. Han shakes hands with his employees, deplanes, and heads for the car service. “I’ve changed my mind,” he says when he sees the gleaming Escalade and its chauffeur. “I want something I can drive myself for the week. Something with some pep.” He hands the chauffeur a couple hundred-dollar bills to cushion the blow, and the man nods. “Sure thing, boss. Current or vintage?”

Han grins. “Vintage.” Before long, his bags are loaded into the trunk of a sleek, open-top British racing green 1955 Jaguar XK140. It purrs once he gets it out of the morass of avenues and traffic signals around LAX. He’s headed for the charming 3-bedroom bungalow he and Leia bought on Mulholland Drive back in the early 90’s, back when they were still trying to make things work. It’s more pool cabana than house, with an amazing view and an open, airy floorplan that belies its small size. The perfect place to relax, grill some steaks, take a deep breath, and take a few hours off work. 

He’ll drop off his stuff, take a shower and change from the flight, then head over to Chroma Wellness to surprise his pain in the ass wife. She’s smart — talking with her when they get together every year or two is always exhilarating — but she really needs to get her shit together. Makeover wouldn’t hurt either, looks like a crazy cat lady half the time.

The car is so responsive as he climbs the hills. Might just have to buy this one and add it to his collection.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. December 25, 2014._   
_Earth/Midgard_

The cafe is closed today and Finn and Rey have lounged around the house watching ridiculous television programs and baking cookies. This evening, Poe has promised to come by to help eat the cookies.

When he comes, in a flurry of cold air and charm, brandishing a bottle of Islay whisky, Finn lights up like a candle. Rey’s almost getting a little sick of how sweet these two are. Their antics have banished her to Ben’s room more nights than she can count this week. 

But it seems the boys feel a bit of conscience pricking for how thoroughly Poe has taken over Finn’s life and the shared home on Cooper Street, so together they present Rey with a pile of wrapped gifts. There’s a vinyl record, of all things, of Bing Crosby’s Christmas crooning; a fancy Le Creuset muffin pan; and a beautiful hardback edition of The Count of Monte Cristo. Dumas is one of her favorites, so she squeals with joy and hugs Poe and Finn at the same time, before retiring up to her attic with a tumbler of the Bunnahabhain and her book. It’s time for a rereading (and tuning out any celebrations that are ongoing downstairs).

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 7, Day 5 (5.5.7.5 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Ben can’t focus on his meditation. Just can’t. It’s been hard in general since returning to Bail Organa’s house on Chandrila. There’s so much more human noise and so much less general atmospheric Force energy. He usually manages a better meditation regardless, just because of the amount he has grown as a Force user in the weeks they were away. 

But this morning he woke up and looked at his watch. It’s Christmas, back on Earth. Christmas…isn’t a thing, in this galaxy. It’s not that his parents or Padmé were religious, and he certainly had his share of sucky Christmases. But there were traditions, mostly involving decorations and Nonna’s amazing pastries. So there’s a certain underlying current of dejection in his spirit as he attempts his Jedi-style meditation, just as much as there ever was when he was stuck spending Christmas in Afghanistan.

Ben’s efforts continue to come to nothing; he just gets distracted and finds his thoughts wandering off to what 5010 Group’s next strategic move should be or what Rey might be up to alone on the holiday. Finally in his frustration he punches the bed. He hits the frame, not entirely unintentionally, but luckily doesn’t damage it. It still smarts on his knuckles. 

Thinking about pain reminds him of what Luke and Anakin have told him about the Sith, and thinking about Anakin and the Sith reminds him of the helmet. It’s still in the rucksack. He goes over to the closet and takes it out, contemplating the twisted relic. It’s time to consult Anakin about what to do with it. But he might as well give it one more shot — it had a strange amplifying effect on his meditation before he left for Yavin IV, so maybe it’ll do the same now, or even better, considering his increased skills.

He kneels again, placing one hand over the warped mass and closing his eyes. He breathes deeply, out, in, out. As he reaches out in the Force, Ben does perceive a slightly clearer picture of the Force signatures surrounding him; there’s a sort of energy that draws him to Luke’s bright green (maybe outside on the veranda?) and Leia’s muted blue glow (she may not have awoken yet). He feels swept past them, past all the bustle of Hanna City, out into the broader galaxy. 

Ben decides to let this meditation do what it will. Luke’s goals for his meditation don’t have a stated purpose anyway, so he’ll just see if the amplified experience of using the helmet for a second time leads him to any breakthroughs. He feels himself in the Force skirting past star system after star system, taking note of few landmarks since they mean nothing to him anyway. There’s a small blue point of light that attracts his interest, and a few planets of engrossing darkness.

Just like in his meditation before leaving Yavin IV, he allows himself to be swept out beyond the boundaries of Ieldraan. This time, he sees no purple pinpoint in Midgard, and before he can move toward the brightness there, the energy of his meditation is pushing him in another direction. He fills with foreboding when he realizes he’s being drawn toward one of the dark realms. With some relief, he realizes it’s not the one that seemed so completely dark and evil, but the dark cold realm is little better. 

There’s an energy pulsing there, he feels, as he’s pulled closer. Something that feels very wrong, like nightmares, like every step in a minefield, like betrayal. He can’t look away, though, or change where this is going. There’s some reason he’s called here, some very, very wrong reason. 

There is someone, or something, on that realm that very much wants to talk to Ben Solo.

Ben Solo does not particularly want to talk to it, however, so he decides it’s time for the meditation to be over. He tries to open his eyes, to shift his position, to remove his hand from the mask of his grandfather, but he feels somehow sluggish, as if the meditation process has shut down some motor functions and set him dreaming. 

Until the cord snaps and he’s suddenly ejected from the vision.

Ben blinks into reality, coming to grips with the warmth and light of the Chandrilan morning in the room around him, the sweat beading his body, the brittle durasteel object on the ground before him. And beside him, the bright blue glow of Anakin Skywalker.

“Sorry to interrupt your meditation, but I sensed something was…not right,” says the ghost.

“You can say that again,” Ben mutters. “How can you interfere with my meditation? You aren’t even…”

“I’m very much real in the Force, and when you meditate effectively, that’s the realm where you are, too. So I can have a lot more effect on your experience there. Right now, I’d say it’s quite possible you’ve stumbled on the answer to the question we have been asking: what happened to Darth Sidious. That evil that was pulling you in felt quite familiar.”

“So, you’re saying the old Emperor is still alive somehow on a different realm?” Ben asks.

“The Force moves in mysterious ways, so, no, I’m not saying that exactly. I’m saying you’ve found traces of him on a different realm. Could be him; could be his corpse is stashed there; could be some relic he imbued with some part of his power; could even be some poor sap that he possessed in order to have a functioning body after I threw him into the abyss,” Anakin muses.

“If we have to kill him again, let’s do it more thoroughly this time, don’t you think?” Ben snarks.

“Hey, before you start criticizing me and Luke, I’d like to point out that you could still be stuck in that unpleasant meditation right now if it weren’t for me. How about a little, “Thanks, Grandpa” or something?”

Ben shakes his head. “Seriously? Ok, thanks. But I’m not so sure you aren’t the reason I got stuck there in the first place. Could your mask be what connected me to the presence of Sidious?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to have put some sort of a relic into my armor that would allow him to track me through the Force,” Anakin answers. “I don’t know how you got that thing, but it’s really time to get rid of it. I think you can see by now that even if it enhanced your meditation, the dangers are too great. Let’s punt it out the airlock next time we are in space.”

“Don’t you think it will be useful to Luke and Mace as they try to pinpoint what realm he’s on?” Ben asks, finding himself somewhat reluctant to part with the freaky object.

“Your telepathic skills are strong, I’m sure you can communicate all available information about what you saw. The helmet is a reminder of my 25 years of subjugation to the Sith, and it might be a tool in trying to ensnare you to their cause as well. It is mine, and I demand we destroy it.”

“Do the dead have property rights in this galaxy?” Ben asks with a raised eyebrow. It’s not even like he wants to keep the thing, but there’s something tempting about arguing with his grandfather. “I think I like it. Good luck destroying it, incorporeal boy.”

Ben buries the helmet back in his rucksack and puts the rucksack in the closet. He will destroy it, he just doesn’t have to tell Anakin that today. 

Anakin scowls and walks over to the closet. He disappears into the door, followed by a number of clanking sounds. Ben is impressed. Force ghosts can move stuff in physical space? But a minute later the ghost seeps back out of the closet door with a frown. “Guess I can’t carry objects through walls,” he admits. Ben coughs out a laugh, and in a moment it’s a full-grown guffaw. 

What a Christmas.

* * *

_Los Angeles, California. December 25, 2014._   
_Earth/Midgard_

Getting from LA to Malibu is normally a pain in the ass — whether you take the 405 through Santa Monica or go around on the 101 — but it’s Christmas, so traffic is abnormally light. Han decides to avoid Santa Monica anyway, winding his way through the state park west of Calabasas with the top down. It’s windy and about 15 degrees (60 degrees! He mentally shakes himself — been living in London too long), so there aren’t a lot of Californians around with open convertibles, but after December in London it feels positively tropical.

When Han rings at the entrance to Chroma Wellness, Dr. Chroma herself opens the door, and her eyes go wide with shock. 

“Surprised, eh?” Han gives her his most roguish grin. “I was in town and thought I’d surprise my wife for Christmas. How’s she doing?”

Phasma Chroma clears her throat. “I’m sorry, but she’s feeling indisposed and asked not to take any calls or visitors today, Mr. Solo,” she says evenly. “Why don’t you come into my office for a cup of coffee with my apologies.”

“Nah, she’ll be all right with me visiting. We may be separated but we still get along all right, if you know what I mean?” He winks. “Just tell me her room number and I’ll take all the flak if she really doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Solo, but I can’t do that,” Phasma assures him. “Mrs. Solo has the right to be undisturbed. If you call and get her permission, by all means, be my guest.”

Han pulls out his phone, opening his contacts before he remembers he has the booking papers for Leia’s stay here saved in his email. Opening it, he takes note of the room number on the receipt. He smiles up at Dr. Chroma and pretends to put a call through to Leia. “It just went to voicemail,” he lies. “I’ll just sit on this couch here and try again in a few minutes. You can go back to your work.” Phasma frowns at him, but eventually returns to her office, shutting the door before carrying on a hushed telephone conversation. 

As soon as Han thinks she’s sufficiently occupied, he sneaks around the corner and begins walking swiftly through the halls. He spots a lone custodial staff member, and palms the guy a twenty-dollar bill with a “Merry Christmas” before asking where to find room 23. 

“You’re at it,” the man says, gesturing across the hall. “Thinking about booking it for somebody?”

“No, my wife is staying there,” Han says in confusion.

“Nobody’s staying there now,” the staff member disagrees. “The lady that was there, she checked out early November.”

Han frowns, hands on his hips. “You recall her name, what she looked like?” Receiving a nod in reply, he pulls out his phone again and pulls up a news item on Leia, showing the picture to the other man. “This her?”

“The very one!” the man says. “Sorry if your wife gave you the slip. You could ask Dr. Chroma, but please don’t tell her I told you. Just tell her the door was open or something?”

“Sure thing, pal,” Han answers, turning on his heel and heading back toward the office, fuming. He slams the door open without knocking, and starts shouting at Phasma, jabbing his finger in her face across her midcentury steel desk. “Where the fuck is my wife, Phasma? You kill her and bury the body? I am going to fucking sue your quack rehab center into the next century!”

Phasma makes an attempt at a conciliating gesture before giving up, standing, and walking around the desk to loom over Han. “You have no right to burst into my office and start swearing at me. You want to know what happened? Well, take it up with your son Ben and his friends at the SHIELD agency, all right? They’re the ones who showed up and insisted not only that I release Leia to their custody, but also that I lie about it to you. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now, but they’re way ahead of you when it comes to threatening to destroy my business. Now, if you don’t mind, please get out of my office so I can get to work on this evening’s Christmas festivities for my actual clients.” She glares down at him. Han scowls, but the woman is a lot more believable now than when she was claiming Leia was sick.

He walks slowly out to the car, kicking the pebbles in the circular drive. So much for his plan of doing some good on Christmas. And now he has a larger family problem to deal with. Since neither Ben nor Padmé has been returning his calls, he probably needs to pay Massachusetts a visit sooner rather than later. And given how booked his schedule is in the new year, that probably means missing out on the New Year’s festivities he had planned. 

Where the living fuck is his wife?

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 5, Week 7, Day 5 (5.5.7.5 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

“Buon natale,” Padmé greets Ben when she finds him on Bail’s patio that evening. “I’m sorry I was so busy planning the gala that we couldn’t celebrate in the usual way. Panettone doesn’t work as well without high gluten wheat flour and that isn’t exactly a staple here,” she says with a wink. 

“It’s not a problem, Nonna,” Ben sighs. “For the most part, things are fine. Just days like today remind me of my life back home, and I wonder about stuff like how my company is doing.”

Padmé nods. “I completely understand. I hope Café Nabú is flourishing under Rey and Finn’s guidance, but until Mace returns I won’t know for sure.”

Ben looks up. “Do you know when he will return? I sent him with messages as well. Do you have his comm so I can contact him if I’m back on Yavin IV?”

“Sure,” his grandmother nods. “I’ll have Artoo input it in your datapad. I don’t honestly know when he’ll be back. I think he tries to spend half his time on Asgard these days. Given his age, it’s the safest choice until a successor Protector can be found.”

Ben sighs. “So much for knowing what’s up with 5010 Group.”

Padmé fixes him with a penetrating stare. “Do you want to go home? It would be okay, you know.”

“Sometimes, a little bit,” Ben admits, looking up at her. “But not nearly as much as I would have expected. Connecting with the Force has changed how I see things, I feel less frustrated. Shit, it’s nice having a mom who isn’t wacked out on drugs. But yes, I miss some people and what I have built. I’m not giving up and going back before we do what we came to do, though.”

“End the Empire?” Padmé asks with a raised eyebrow. “That seems to be a more complex task than Luke assumed. It’s not one that has any obligation on you. I want you to feel free to go where you need to. Luke seems to be driving you out of your mind.”

Ben shrugs in acquiescence. He can’t bring himself to talk candidly about Luke to the mother who lost the guy for decades.

“I know you’re doing your best,” Padmé continues. “The two of you just seem to butt heads. If it gets too bad, I want you to feel like you can leave or just take a vacation.”

“Not like I know where to go,” Ben laughs. “I’d probably end up in the scenic wastelands of the Shithole System or something.”

“I can have Artoo update your datapad with some basic geography, too,” laughs Padmé. “And please take this,” she adds, pressing a small, flat object into his hand. “It’s a credit chip with a good chunk of money. Should be enough to cover anything you could need — food, clothing, transport — if you just need a break from all of us. Untraceable so you don’t have to worry about Luke deciding to come tell you to come back.”

“Thanks, Padmé. Learned your lesson from that time I ran off on our vacation in Rome, huh?”

His grandmother’s laugh tinkles pleasantly. “You know me too well. I want you to be safe and prepared, not calling me from the police station.”

“But the money; how can I pay you back?”

Padmé frowns, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it. Remember, I was queen and senator of a planet. Plenty of money was basically thrown at me for three years, and through the good efforts of Bail and the Naboo, it was hidden away all these years in case I came back or Luke needed additional support. I want you to have some of it.”

“Thank you, Nonna. And buon natale,” is all Ben can say to her kindness.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Midyear Holiday, 5 ABY._   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

This collar is fucking ridiculous. No wonder the Galactic Senate didn’t manage to detect and avoid the rise of the evil Emperor if the major players in the fight for freedom were dressed like Ben is right now, or how Padmé looks in the archival photos he’s seen. It’s so incredibly uncomfortable he doubts he'll be able to think of anything else, so if enemy agents show up and try to sabotage this event, he hopes Luke is on his A game.

Leia materializes at his elbow. Her face twists into a wry expression that’s classic Leia Solo, brash comedienne. But she isn’t about to regale an audience with a bittersweet anecdote about the time her French bulldog barfed on Liberace. She’s commiserating with him. 

“You look comfortable, mother,” he mutters. She does, by comparison; Leia is dressed in a flattering navy dress and cape combo embroidered with astronomical motifs in silver thread, her hair styled up into a complicated crown braid. Ben can’t tell for sure how she’s feeling, because a desire to protect her from his intense discomfort has led him to shield off their bond for the evening. 

“You look like something Gary would puke on,” she says, apparently able to read his mind even without the bond. She’s right; the ensemble Bail has kitted him out in is definitely worthy of Liberace. 

“Why does Luke get to wear a black suit again?” he asks, though he supposes he already knows the answer. If he were to swear to eschew attachments and become a Jedi fanatic, he too could reject Alderaanian formal attire conventions. (And yes, he’s also explored the possibilities of Naboo and Tatooinian formal attire — there’s no way he’s getting out of wearing something awful, but they couldn’t source those types of awfulness in his size quickly enough.)

“Don’t blame your uncle, blame Bail or Nonna or something,” Leia says dismissively, taking a long swallow of her wine. Ben finds the Chandrilan wine interesting, but not something he needs to drink very much of; it’s reminiscent of retsina in a way. Rather than fermenting in oak or steel, the native plant casks impart a strong flavor to the drink that he finds medicinal, but apparently his mother thinks it's great.

“Where is Luke anyway?” Ben asks. 

Leia points across the room. The large and airy chamber is a sort of flat auditorium with a raised dais at one end. It reminds him of the “cafetorium” multi-purpose room at the public school he attended briefly, just with nicer finishes. The other end of the room is totally different, however, as it opens onto an enormous colonnaded balcony with a view of the sea. Everything is light marble and fluttering gauze in Alliance orange; enormous bouquets of flowers from all over the solar system spill from vases that are bigger than Leia.

Behind one of the vases in the direction where Leia is pointing, Ben sees Luke. He’s clasped the arm of a tall, dark-haired man with a cane. The man wears the dress uniform of the New Republic…a naval, or space pilot, officer’s garb, if Ben gathers correctly. His thick eyebrows are pulled together in concern as he gesticulates with his free hand. Too young to need a cane in normal circumstances, the officer must be injured or disabled. 

“Who’s that guy?” Ben wonders.

“Wedge Antilles,” Leia fills him in. “Some crony from the Death Star operations. Apparently, he has the latest news on Lando and Chewie’s whereabouts.”

Ben nods his understanding. “When can we get out of here?”

“Sorry, kid, we’re in for the long haul,” his mother answers wryly. “Apparently, Mon is going to make a speech and she wants Padmé to say a few words afterwards. It’s only fair to stay to support her, I think.”

Ben frowns, but nods his acquiescence. He refills his glass with Chandrilan retsina after all and makes the rounds with Leia, nodding absently and trying not to look too grumpy as they greet an ever-changing stream of alien dignitaries. Threepio hovers at Leia’s other elbow, informing them of the culturally appropriate greetings; you wouldn’t offer to shake hands with a Trodatome, after all. It takes probably half an hour before they make their way to where Padmé is deep in conversation with a Twi’lek man. 

Something twinges in Ben’s mind as he steps near Padmé. “Did you feel that?” he asks Leia, turning to scan the room. 

“Like something bad is about to happen?” Leia grimaces up at him. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suddenly have 4x as much work at work as usual, so editing fic has fallen by the wayside. Since it's written, though, I want to send it your way. The rest of the gala will come once it's edited.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Solo doesn’t want hostiles to have the high ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm realizing I'm never going to resolve all the subplots in this thing in just 10 more chapters. So I've extended the chapter count. I hope that's ok!  
> Also, I put my terrible photo manipulation skills to work to finally bring you Elderly Padmé.

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Midyear Holiday, 5 ABY._   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Ben looks up into the rafters, knowing the importance of elevation for any hostile who plans to assassinate an attendee at the event. There’s no sign of movement above them. Other possible options if his premonition is correct include explosive devices or an armed agent among the guests, but Bail had assured him that the security for the grounds was intensive, and Ben had been searched for weapons on his arrival. Luke had been permitted his lightsaber on ceremonial grounds, but all the other guests were required to check their weapons. Security on the premises was strong.

That leaves one prominent vector for an attacker: the balcony. Ben turns and swiftly walks toward the open end of the room, unceremoniously shoving people out of the way. He hopes his mother will encourage Padmé to move to a less exposed location. Not that they have any reason to believe that their premonition is accurate, but what is the point of studying the Force if you aren’t going to trust it when it sends you a message?

Ben passes under the colonnade and comes to a halt between two groups of cheerfully conversing guests dressed in a mix of ceremonial robes and dress uniforms. That’s when he sees it: a tiny speck in the sky that is careering ever closer. 

“Get down,” he shouts roughly, hoping people will listen before it’s too late. The black speck is adopting the outline of an oddly shaped fighter; he recognizes the TIE from news and history holos. How a lone TIE fighter got into the restricted airspace over Chandrila is a mystery he doesn’t have time to solve right now. Based on his experiences in Afghanistan and what he knows about the speed these fighters travel, he only has seconds to clear the area.

A few people turn to look at him, but no one gets down. The seconds tick past painfully slowly, and he hears a screaming sound that he realizes is the TIE engine. When the other guests register that dreadfully familiar sound, then people start to move, and there is a wholesale rush into the covered area of the building. Ben stands firm, buffeted by a tide of people rushing the other way, their stampede sure to frustrate any attempt Luke and the security forces will make to come out and help.

Ben feels the blood pounding in his ears. He feels the Force flowing around him and the hostile intent of the fighter ship barreling toward him. He sees the bright laser bolts as they start to shoot from the TIE’s cannons directly toward the guests.

He takes a deep breath and thrusts his left hand to the sky without thinking. It’s like when Luke had them practice blaster defense with remotes, only with an actual spaceship shooting at him. A whistling laser bolt veers off course, and he smells burning as it sizzles into a flower arrangement just meters away. 

Ben keeps his hand held high, reaching out in the Force to try to stop the onslaught. No time has passed, really, as the next shot veers up into the sky, another is diverted in front of his feet, and finally he feels the laser missiles in the Force. Now that he feels them, he can control them, and soon a whole array of laser beams is fizzing and spitting suspended in the air in front of his face.

The screaming TIE passes overhead, making a lazy arc to return for a second pass.

* * *

  
Meanwhile inside the event hall Luke hears the screaming of TIE fighters and senses the throbbing pulse of hundreds of people pushing their way toward him. Kriff. He was too caught up in listening to Wedge, silently and internally bewailing the fact that Wedge is totally infatuated with some pilot named Norra Wexley and not about to soothe the slight gap in Luke’s equanimity caused by his recent parting of ways with Lando.

The good times will just have to stay the old times, at least for now.

But the important thing at this moment is that the gala is under attack. Luke’s mother and sister, whose presence he’d fought so hard to secure; his nephew; his friend Wedge and other colleagues from the squadrons that laid siege to the Death Star; all the representatives of well-intentioned worlds that have tried to rebuild the galactic senate: they’re all under threat right now. And Luke is stuck with a giant vase and a couple hundred bleating guests between himself and the target. Stars, he hopes Ben and Leia are on their A game tonight.

Activating his bond, Luke opens his senses, finding his sister less than a second later. She’s with his mother, escorting her out of the danger zone in a mostly orderly fashion. Ben seems to be blocking his bonds for whatever reason, but Luke can still vaguely sense his presence, through long practice. The man is out on the balcony. Kriff. Luke had better get out there and help.

* * *

  
Ben feels like the passage of time has stopped. The sensation is familiar in a vague way, like maybe from near misses with IEDs in Kandahar, but the tactile realness of the feeling is something new. He stands there, arm outstretched, with an adoring audience of cannonfire. Like rays on a sun or markings on a sundial, the laser beams fan out away from him. An ominous hum surrounds him as he looks to the sky, readying for the next round of the assault. 

He doesn’t know if the hum is a real auditory output of TIE plasma bolts, or if it’s feedback from his intense concentration in the Force. Either way he feels it down to his bones, down to his guts. It’s exhilarating to balance on this knife edge where if he correctly controls these incorporeal hazards, he lives. If he loses focus on any one of them, he dies. They hang around him, fizzing at him, aiming at him all their intent as he gives them all his attention, except for that niggling spot in his vision in the distance where he is watching the TIE turning and coming back toward him.

Ben watches and some part of him, maybe it’s his heartbeat that is counting, some part of him is aware of the ticking of the seconds of time as the TIE gets bigger and bigger again. So he takes a deep breath, and he feels his little cohort of hissing popping evil laser bolts, and he embraces them in the Force and just shoves.

With all his might. All his Force. All his fear for his mother and grandmother. All his…him. He just puts it all into one outward tidal wave of a shove. 

The bolts he’s been holding suspended in the air dart away, out into open sky, but Ben doesn’t wait around to see if they hit, because the blackness is falling and so is he, unconscious to the scarred marble pavement.

* * *

  
_Stockholm, Sweden. December 28, 2014._   
_Earth/Midgard_

Agent Fury’s watch tells him it’s 2:00 a.m. here, but the club exists in a kind of murky, neon timelessness. There’s a fog machine and a half-talented metal band, and a lot of people with tattoos and piercings. They probably look great to their friends, but for someone Nick’s age it just looks like they’re tasteless assholes. 

Most people Nick’s age don’t have an opinion on the matter because they’ve been dead for nearly a century.

He sighs and throws back the rest of his beverage. Apparently “strong beer” makes him philosophical. He checks his watch again, and checks the door again. It shouldn’t be that hard to find Voe, given the overall melanin deficiency on display among the club patrons, and this was the time she appointed. He’ll just bide his time. 

The lead singer of the band, who has blue hair, mutters something into the microphone about a cover of Nine Inch Nails’ “Gave Up,” and the room fills with incoherent thrashing percussion and droning electric guitars. If this continues much longer, Nick is going to start missing Mon Cala opera. He signals the bartender for another beer and is surprised to notice a woman sitting right at his elbow when he turns back around.

“Fury?” she says, eyebrow raised, two hoop piercings glittering through it. She extends a hand. “I’m Voe.”

“Trevligt att träffas,” he says, shaking her hand warmly. “Thanks for being willing to meet. Though I’m not sure this is my scene.”

“Don’t bother with the Swedish with me,” she says in charmingly accented English, her smile showing large teeth that glow a brilliant white in the ultraviolet light. “And I doubt you know Suomi. Now, what did you need to tell me?”

Fury reaches inside the breast pocket of his black leather trenchcoat. In many circumstances, the coat made him stand out and look intimidating. Here it helps him fit in, at least a little. 

He draws out a bundle of papers and hands them to Voe. “Our mutual friend wanted wanted to check in about 5010 Group. Assure you he’s still alive and thriving with his…family.”

Voe takes the papers and begins shuffling through them immediately. “Potential target customers…please send market reports… have solved the authentication spoofing hack… slap Tai upside the head and remind him to call Gazpar if we ever want to do Defcon again… Oh, Kylo.” She smiles and shakes her head. “Dude can’t just take a vacation, can he?”

Nick chuckles into his beer. “No, if you’re talking about Ben, that’s been true since he was a boy.”

Voe’s glittering eyebrow quirks up again. “Oh? Do tell.”

Nick fixes her with his one good eye. “No using this against him, all right? Because if you do, his grandma and I will hunt you down.”

Voe laughs, a sound that glitters as much as her eyebrow rings. She’s an appealing human, even if she is a hundred years or so too young for Nick. “I’ll tease him, ‘cuz that’s what we three do, Tai, Voe, and Kylo. But use it against him? I wouldn’t have a chance.”

“Okay,” Nick smiles, taking a swig of his beer. The music has calmed into some sort of guttural crooning in Danish, so he has a chance that he won’t have to yell to be heard. “Well, there was the time…”

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Midyear Holiday, 5 ABY._   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Luke has finally won through to the balcony, using the power of Force suggestion to part the waves of terrified gala guests stampeding into the building interior. Now he surveys a scene where the battle seems to be over before it began. Scorched flowers smolder to his left and a ceremonial New Republic banner hangs in tatters from a shattered column to his right, but the centerpiece of the devastation is the navy blue form splayed out on the pavement ahead of him. The body of his nephew Ben Solo. 

The sky is clear, and running to the edge of the balcony to peer over, Luke sees why: shattered, burning wreckage of the TIE fighter is scattered over streets and gardens and building roofs for three blocks leading up to the event hall. It’s puzzling: why did the fighter self-destruct instead of completing its assault on the gala? Will there be more fighters incoming?

Luke doesn’t have time to meditate on this. He steps away from the balustrade and kneels at Ben’s side, feeling for a pulse. Much to his surprise, Ben’s heart is beating strongly. He’s not dead, wasn’t injured in the attack. Luke breathes a sigh of relief, if only because his sister would kriffing murder him if her son were vaporized by a TIE fighter when they could have all been sitting around meditating on Yavin IV in relative safety. 

He uses the Force to augment his strength, and lifts his nephew’s surprisingly large and sack-like unconscious form onto his shoulders. Ben somehow weighs more than a womp rat--but, thankfully, less than the half-mechanical corpse of Darth Vader. There’s a bit of a stagger to Luke’s step as he makes his way back into the interior of the building. Clusters of the braver guests chatter dispersed around the room, but Luke homes in directly toward Padmé and Leia at the far end. 

He can see the worry in Padmé's eyes before even reaching the women. Apparently, incapacitated Ben is a new look, from his grandmother's perspective. “Don’t worry, Mother, Leia,” Luke grunts out. “He’s not dead. Just out. Help me find him a couch or something.”

Leia nods tersely, the gesture failing to cover the fact that her face has gone white, all the blood drained at the sight of her son unconscious (again). “Mon scrambled fighters, so we should at least be protected if they’re sending anyone else.”

After depositing Ben unceremoniously on a sofa, Luke shakes out his shoulders. Not a burden he would choose to hoist again soon. “I hope he wakes up soon so we can find out what happened,” he murmurs. “The TIE pilot self-destructed, so we have no hope of information from that sector.” He looks grim.

Leia nods thoughtfully. “What should we do about the rest of the guests?” she asks, turning to Padmé. “We had everyone take shelter in the offices downstairs. If there’s any more Imperials coming, it’s dodgy to send people out into the streets. But if they planned something serious this building is too easy a target.”

Padmé is decisive. “Leia, you stay here with Ben and communicate with the security and scanning crews. If you hear about anything that makes you uneasy, send me a message immediately. My gut is that more attackers are not coming and that fighter was just meant to instill terror. But we need to keep the crowd from getting too restless until we can be sure.”

“I’ll come with you and help get everyone into the old auditorium downstairs,” Luke suggests. “I can say a few words to introduce you and Mon.” 

“That sounds wonderful,” Padmé declares. “I know you don’t love being a figurehead, the only Jedi around, but it can bring a lot of comfort and security to people. And after an attack on what was supposed to be a party celebrating the peace, they need that.” Luke’s expression clouds momentarily at his mother’s words. It is unfair to the galaxy that the Empire can’t seem to get the message that their time is over and beings everywhere want freedom.

Mother and son hasten down the ornamental staircase in the old, ornate building. Every few minutes the whistling of X-wing fighters screeches by overhead, and there is the occasional whiff of acrid smoke. Luke and Padmé gather a few of the security personnel and enlist their help in gathering the gala attendees from the offices where they have been sheltering in place.

Soon everyone has come together in the old auditorium, its comfortable seats covered in soft brocades. Luke doesn’t bother with the stage, but sets the tone by walking up the center aisle to stand right in the midst of the assembled guests. He puts a note of persuasion into his words, as best as he is able, as he urges everyone to wait patiently for the all clear and to proceed with the speeches Mon had originally scheduled. There’s a smattering of applause, but most of the audience just looks shell-shocked.

Mon Mothma speaks next. She’s no Jedi, but she is a native Chandrilan, and her superlative calm seems to be infectious. She awards commendatory medals to various New Republic representatives who have achieved great strides for peace on their homeworlds in the preceding months: freeing prisoners, founding schools, eradicating slavery. Then she calls Padmé to the podium.

“I’d like to introduce to you an old friend of mine, Senator Padmé Naberrie Amidala of Naboo. She served in the Galactic Senate in the time of the Clone Wars and was believed dead for more than twenty years. In reality she was in hiding from the oppressive Palpatine regime. I hope that we will find more loved ones in hiding — renegade Jedi, lovers of freedom, creative people who refused to bow before oppression — as we emerge from the shadow of evil that we have all lived under for so long. That’s why I’ve invited Padmé to share her story with you.” She embraces Padmé and signals to the droid that is holorecording the presentation for broadcast that it should shift its focus and voice amplification to her.

Padmé smiles and looks around at the disheveled and tear-stained faces. “I hoped to share this story in better circumstances. An easy version of the story, that made the road to galactic peace look straightforward, because that would fit neatly into a celebration.” She swallows hard, pausing. There’s still a whiff of that oily smoke from the demolished TIE fighter. “As it turns out nothing is easy. So I want to tell you the unvarnished truth about my experience, even if it’s really hard to understand.

“When I was a senator, I fell in love with a Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker. Our love was forbidden. Even worse, Anakin’s paranoia about keeping me safe was a way that Palpatine could control him. My husband ended up falling to the dark side and becoming a Sith, Darth Vader, who tormented all of you for far too long. When I realized what had happened to him I was pregnant with our children. I tried to stop him, even travelled to the dangerous Sith planet of Mustafar, but he reacted badly and nearly killed me.

“With the help of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, I delivered my children safely. I had to go into hiding, and was able to bring my daughter with me. My son would be raised by relatives on Tatooine, where he grew up into the Luke Skywalker you all know and love. I wish I had been able to watch it.” There’s a round of applause, then she continues.

“You may wonder how such an old lady could have such a young son. Well, the universe works in mysterious ways. My daughter and I were hidden away on a planet where human aging occurs much more quickly. In fact, we aged fast enough that Leia has married and had her own son, who’s older than her own twin brother. But that’s not important. We experienced strange things, and I lost many years of my life and time with one of my children. But I’m so glad to be back and see the nascent beginnings of a new freedom, a freedom the galaxy didn’t even have when I was a senator and the Clone Wars were brewing. 

“I’m so honored to be back here with both of my children and with my grandson. I’m so sorry for the horrors my husband committed. I hope you can help me to find more people that have been hiding from the Sith, so we can build a free galaxy together.”

Padmé clears her throat and smiles serenely at the applause. Mon looks as happy as she gets, and Luke is beaming, so they don’t seem to care that she threw out the lame cover story they’d agreed on, where Leia and Ben were their cousins. Speaking of whom…she wonders how they are doing.

* * *

Leia Organa reaches out into the living Force. She is firmly a Gen Xer, but the moment calls for multitasking at a level her son’s generation is better known for. She simultaneously wants to connect with Ben, to poke and prod him into responsiveness, and monitor the airspace above, scanning for hostile fighters.

Screw it, she thinks after a few minutes of divided attention. There’s no sign of anything in the airspace except X-wings, and those pilots are utterly capable of taking care of themselves. It’s her son who needs her. So she reaches out again, and nudges him in the Force, even though he’d done everything in his power to shield himself off from her throughout the evening. 

Leia has gotten the feeling, from Luke as well as Mace, that she and Ben exhibit unusually strong telepathic powers in the Force, unusually easy connections to the Dark Side. It would be only logical for the descendants of Anakin Skywalker. How can she apply these skills to waking her unconscious, drained son?

Hm. The Dark Side. She smirks, thinking of what would make Ben angry. So she assaults their bond with a stream of thoughts and images about Han Solo. What a wonderful, charming rascal he is. Off making money on the other side of the Atlantic from his family.

Correlation may not indicate causation, but after a few minutes of this mental bombardment Ben stirs, groaning. 

“Ben!” she exclaims, brushing his hair away from his face gently with a trembling hand. “You’re with me! Thank God.”

“Uhhnng,” he grunts. “Mom? Is the TIE fighter…”

“It’s over,” she assures him, pressing down firmly on his broad chest as he tries to struggle up from his supine position. “The fighter self-destructed.”

Ben screws his eyes up, struggling to reach alertness. “I might have had something to do with that,” he says modestly. “It was attacking the balcony, and I tried to send all its laser bolts back at it. Didn’t really seem like the guy was intent on kamikaze.”

Leia raises an eyebrow. “Well, good work then. No one at the gala died, Ben. You should probably give yourself credit for a lot of lives saved.”

Ben lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Some vestige of the adrenaline from battle is still pumping through his veins so he feels on edge, superhuman, inhuman. He reaches out a hand to clasp his mother’s hand and they just sit there in silence.

* * *

He should have guessed it wouldn’t be that easy. Luke is ripshit when he finds out that the TIE fighter didn’t self-destruct, it exploded because Ben used the Force to redirect its missiles back at it.

“We could have found out who sent them if we took the pilot alive! Or, you know, had more salvageable wreckage at least,” he exclaims in that whiny, Tatooine farmboy voice of his. “Ben, you can’t just give in to destructive impulses like that.”

“What the fuck, Luke,” Ben grinds out, his head still painfully pulsing with the aftershocks of his blackout. “I’m a half-trained Force user, if that. I made sure we had zero fatalities. On my own. If you want to do better, try being, you know, there on the scene next time.”

Leia glares at both of them. “Luke, I don’t think this is really helpful right now. If you want to teach Ben a way to take on fighter planes in single combat while unarmed that also keeps the opposing fighter alive, I’m sure that’d be a really useful skill. But what he did in the circumstances seems praiseworthy to me. Seriously. We’re alive, Mom is alive, all the Alliance guests are alive. Things could have ended a lot worse, and they didn’t, because of Ben.”

Luke purses his lips in a thin line. “Ok. Well. You have a point.” And he turns and walks out of the room, tension manifest in the lines of his shoulders in his black garb. Leia offers Ben a hand, which he takes again, and stands. 

“Let’s get Padmé and go home, ok?” she offers. He nods. He hasn’t felt this drained in a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it took to get this chapter out! Apparently lots of work + editing a battle does not work for me.
> 
> Side note, I'm surprised how well everyone is taking Fainting Ben Solo. Between barfing when traveling to Asgard, and now passing out twice, the guy is having a hard time acclimating to his powers. He'll get used to them soon. :) I just figured the world needs more fics where Rey passes out less than Ben, because really, of the two of them, who's tougher?


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé gets a post-gala visit from an unexpected old friend, and uncovers a decades-old secret. Meanwhile, Han Solo is on the trail of his errant wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Han and Leia have had separate lives for a long time.

_Somerville, Massachusetts. December 29, 2014._   
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey doesn’t usually remember her dreams very well. So when she wakes up before dawn on Monday morning, she’s surprised by the lucidity of her recollections of this one. She dreamed that she woke up in the wee hours to the sound of the illegal rooster on the next block starting its 4 a.m. racket. She blushes to think of what a therapist would say about her dream starting with the symbol of a cock. The whole dream is rather embarrassing, an indictment of her persistent single state. 

> _In the dream, when she heard the rooster, she rolled over, only to find there was a man in her bed. This was momentarily upsetting — her heart rate peaked into fight or flight mode, unable to figure out why he was there. Then she saw who it was. There sprawled across the duvet was Ben Solo. His hair was longer than she remembered and was tangled and matted with dirt and sweat. Scrapes and soot marred his face, but he didn’t seem in distress, as he was sleeping like a log. He was dressed in an amazing ensemble: some sort of blue suit in a rich fabric, again stained with ash and blood, and an Elizabethan collar to top it off._
> 
> _In the haze of 4 a.m. she poked at him, then shook him by the arm. “Hey, Ben!” she whispered urgently. “Wake up. Why are you in my bed?”_
> 
> _After enough shaking and poking and muttering, eventually dream Ben woke enough to half sit up, wincing in discomfort. “Your bed?” he asked groggily, peering around the room by the dim streetlight that filtered in through the window. “No. My bed.” With that grunted response he flopped back down, but rolled closer to Rey. Reaching out a strong arm he pulled her to him, wrapping himself around her back and nuzzling into her hair. “Good dream, thank Force,” he trailed off back into sleep. Warmed by the embrace, Rey faded back into dreamlessness._

Now she lies on her back in a bed that definitively has only her and a cat in it, feeling terribly aroused at the memory of a dream. If only there were a man to embrace her and hold her while she slept, a pile of warmth and solid muscle and soft eyes and sorrow. 

On the other side of the bed, Mothma opens a grumpy eye and stumbles to her feet, meowing. Rey sighs. Old cats are needy cats. So much for some alone time to get that dream out of her system. She pulls on a robe and traipses down the stairs to refill the food or water — whatever Mothma’s spilled this time.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 1, Day 1 (5.6.1.1 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Padmé and Bail are relaxing over a warm tisane in his office when Kaydel steps into the room with a message. 

“Archivists from Naboo who attended the midyear holiday gala are here. They hope to speak with Padmé Amidala before they return to their planet.”

“Thank you, Kaydel,” Padmé smiles. Bail nods, putting aside an elegant dove grey teacup. “Show them in, please.”

The archivists are dressed in deep red, purple, and orange robes and tunics in the traditional style of the Naboo royal household. They bow deeply when Padmé and Senator Organa rise to greet them. “Thank you for taking the time to meet us, Senators,” says the eldest of the archivists. She unwraps the deep purple head covering from around her face slowly. The woman is in her middle fifties, with long hair dyed jet black and gathered into a complicated twist. She wears heavy eye makeup and pale lipstick on a face that is terribly familiar. It’s like Padmé is looking into a mirror and twenty years into the past at the same time.

“Dormé!” she exclaims, rushing forward to wrap her old friend and former handmaiden in a hug. Bail greets the Naboo woman warmly as well. 

“It has been too long,” he murmurs.

Dormé nods. “We did our best to keep under the radar. Now that the galaxy is gaining freedom, we hope to be able to preserve our culture more openly. Though I hope the path to freedom contains less of the sort of event we experienced last night.”

Bail frowns. “I entirely agree. I’m very sorry you and your companions had to be exposed to that terror. We are very fortunate that no one died.”

“I hear that’s entirely due to your children’s efforts,” Dormé interjects, clasping Padmé’s arm. “I felt it, in the Force, what they did. Now, Luke Skywalker is the blond, and your son, right? And how is the other young man related to you and Anakin?”

Padmé sighs. “It’s complicated, but I suppose you probably have historians’ reasons for wanting to know. Luke is the blond young man. My daughter Leia was with me; and her son is the black haired man who mounted the defense in the Force.”

Dormé nods eagerly, signalling to one of her assistants, who unwraps an enormous leather-bound book from their baggage. “Thank you. I must update the records.”

“Which records?” Padmé inquires, curious.

“Naboo traditionally maintained records of all the queens and senators, and their families. We kept them safe, in the underground all these years. The entry for Padmé Naberrie Amidala indicates your death in 19 BBY. Obviously, we need to correct that.”

“But Dormé, you and I both know Padmé Amidala died years before that. Do you really want imposters in your record books?”

“Padmé,” her friend responds impassionedly, “your service in the Senate was entirely true to the spirit of the original Padmé and to the best interests of Naboo as you understood them. Those few of us who knew you were from another place — we were always moved by your willingness to serve our people. There are still many Naboo devoted to your memory. Allow us to honor you and your descendants.”

Padmé bites her lip, then eventually nods. “Okay. Let me see what information I can help you with.” Dormé’s assistant, who is a calligraphy specialist, starts with the entry for Padmé’s death in 19 BBY, carefully painting over it with a masking compound. In place of the entry she adds two new ones for the births of Luke Skywalker and Leia Naberrie at Polis Massa. It takes several minutes’ consultation for Padmé and Bail to establish that Ben Solo’s birth occurred in the equivalent of 9 BBY, and another few minutes to debate whether it is traditional to include the births and deaths of senators’ grandchildren if they never resided on the planet. One of the assistants comes up with a precedent, so Ben Solo’s birth, too, is included in the official records of Naboo. The ink dries and Padmé runs her hand down the page, seeing the names of queens and senators she never heard of, noting the bright, recent ink that records the death of Sheev Palpatine, Senator and Galactic Emperor, in 4 ABY. 

Dormé chats with Bail while Padmé turns the pages. Now she flips backwards, wondering when the real Padmé had been born. Eventually she finds the record in 46 BBY: birth of Padmé Naberrie “Amidala,” Queen and Senator. Just above her name there is, for some reason, a blank line in the records. “Why is there a blank?” she asks the calligrapher.

The young woman looks at the page with a furrowed brow. “Good question. Perhaps an entry has been erased.” She opens a small satchel and withdraws a vial of clear liquid. Using an extremely fine brush, she applies the liquid to the space above Padmé’s name.

“It is as I thought,” she says a moment later. “Masking compound.” She continues carefully painting the chemical onto the page until the hidden text is revealed.

“Birth of Porro Palpatine, son of junior Senator Sheev Palpatine,” Padmé murmurs the words, stunned. She looks up; Dormé has sensed her disquiet, and she and Bail fall silent. “Palpatine had a son about the age of the true Padmé. What happened to him??”

Bail grimaces, swallowing hard. “That’s one of the worst things I’ve heard all year. I thought Sheev Palpatine was a truly unique evil, and Jedi and Sith don’t usually have children. If the Emperor has hidden descendants, it’s less surprising how long some of the imps are holding out. But I don’t understand how none of our spies ever heard of this fact.”

“Maybe he died young?” Padmé suggests.

Dormé shakes her head. “No, that would have been a separate entry in the annals. I’ve definitely never seen this name before. It must have been deliberately hidden. It must still have been there when the archivists went back to 46 BBY to add Padmé's name to the annals when she was elected queen in 32,” she deduces. “Otherwise they would have written your entry over the masking compound.”

“So sometime after 32, Palpatine decided to erase the fact he had a son,” Bail offers. “He was already planning the clone army around that time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought hiding his son would be a type of insurance if he were to become emperor.”

Padmé nods. “That would make sense. We need to share this finding with Luke, though. And then quite possibly with the whole Senate.”

“I don’t know if that’s wise,” Bail suggests. “It’s possible the empire didn’t know about the kid either, or he died after the Emperor hid him, but if we mention it we’ll give them something new to rally around. Let’s play it cautious.”

* * *

  
_Logan Airport, Boston, Massachusetts. December 30, 2014._   
_Earth/Ieldraan_

Thus far, besides canceling his date and New Year’s party, the change of plans due to Leia’s disappearance hasn’t messed too much with Han’s American vacation. He’d still spent a good couple of days grilling, swimming, and drinking cheap beer at his Bel Air bungalow. The skydiving was excellent. The VP they’d set him up with to show him around at Solo America was intelligent and not sycophantic, and had also been helpful in changing his flight reservations. Midmorning Tuesday, he’d boarded the first class cabin of the daily Solo America service to Boston from LAX, and now here he is. It will be a shorter flight back to London on Thursday night this way, he supposes.

He checks into the suite that’s been reserved for him at a boutique hotel in Kenmore under a false name, and retires downstairs to the sashimi bar for some Japanese whiskies and flirting with people who hopefully don’t recognize him. That’s the nice thing about visiting America when he’s such a fixture in London. Bostonians are too full of themselves to be aware of billionaires from across the pond. Nobody expects to see Sir Han in Kenmore.

He buys enough martinis and artistically prepared sea creatures for the hot thirty-something dining alone at the bar that she comes up to his suite with him for champagne, but after she blows him he gets bored and asks her to go.

He’s worrying about Leia and doesn’t want to think about it, so he pulls up his work email and sees what his executive team has been up to in his absence. Looks like Tobias is _still_ bitching at anyone who will listen about the Rathtar fields. He’ll have to look into that more closely so he can prove they’re having an immediate positive impact on the bottom line. This company is his legacy. It _is_ Han Solo. He might need to see about shaking up the board of directors pretty soon.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. December 31, 2014_   
_Earth/Ieldraan_

Boston is one of the shittiest cities on Earth for operating a motor vehicle, and given that he’s spent most of the last couple decades in London, Han’s opinion on the matter comes from a place of authority. It doesn’t stop him renting a flash car for his planned day’s activity: surprise his mother-in-law and son and make them tell him where his wife is. The silver Porsche Panamera 4S isn’t his usual style, but it accelerates instantaneously and holds curves like nobody’s business, which makes it the right choice for Storrow Drive and other Boston-area nightmares.

Han hasn’t been to visit Jane--Padmé--since before she left New Mexico, for obvious reasons. He’s not exactly her favorite person, and she’s well off enough (from what source, he’s never been able to figure out) that he doesn’t even have a hope of buying her favor like he can the rest of humankind. For the most part they’ve ignored each other since he and Leia separated, except on those rare occasions she would browbeat him into being involved in something about Ben’s education and upbringing. He’s not Ben’s favorite person, either.

Today, though, he’ll probably have to face both of them. But finding Leia is an important enough goal that he’ll do it if he has to. Not that he owes her anything, really. It’s just the kind of guy he is. It’s probably why he has never divorced and remarried. However many hot models he dates, at least this way he only has one addicted wife to yell at him and one son to be disappointed with him, instead of three crazy ex-wives and six disappointed offspring, or whatever the average should be for a man of his wealth and importance.

Somehow he eventually manages to approach Cooper Street from the right direction in the maze of one-way roads that weave in and out of Davis Square. It’s only one block long, so it’s no wonder it took a while to find. He parks the car wherever he can find space, locks it, and saunters up to the neat yellow house that must be Padmé’s. 

He’s surprised when his knock is answered by a young man he’s never seen before. “May I help you?” the man asks. He has skeptical eyes, fashionable cornrows, and a deep red sweater.

“Uh, yeah, I’m looking for Padmé or Ben,” Han says. “Or Leia, if she happens to be here. Can I come in? I do have Padmé Naberrie’s house, right?”

“This is her house, yeah,” the man answers, frowning, “but she’s not here right now, so you probably shouldn’t come in. You could call her?”

“Tried that, her voicemail is full. Look,” Han looks the younger man in the eye, “I’m her son-in-law. Han Solo. Apparently, my son busted my wife out of rehab and I'm trying to find out where she is and if she is okay. Do you think you can help me out here?”

“Han Solo?” The young man’s eyes open wide. “Like Solo Records, Solo Atlantic, that Han Solo?”

Han nods.

“Damn, I can’t believe I never put it together that Ben Solo was your son,” the man says, shaking his head and giving Han an appraising look up and down. “Well, I’m Finn Moses. I’m one of the managers at Padmé’s cafe and I’m one of the renters here. You can come in,” he says, stepping back from the door and walking around the corner to call out. “Rey! Can you come down here?”

Han enters the house, shutting the door on the cold behind him. He toes off his loafers and lays his leather gloves on a small table by the entrance, hanging his overcoat and scarf on a peg. He knows Padmé keeps things tidy. 

Finn has turned back to him. “You’re lucky the cafe is closed today, or you wouldn’t have found anyone here at all. Rey might have more news on your family than I do, but they definitely aren’t here. You want some coffee or something?”

Han nods, looking up as a young woman comes into the room. She wears ratty torn jeans and a slouchy blue sweater pushed up to the elbows, and her hair is pulled up into small buns on the back of her head. “What’s going on, Finn?” she asks.

“Well, Rey, this is Han Solo. Ben’s dad is apparently _the_ Han Solo and I didn’t know it. Mr. Solo, Rey Santé. Rey has been living here with Padmé and Ben for, what, a year?” She nods, extending a hand for Han to shake. Her other hand remains in her jeans pocket. “We both manage Café Nabú.” Finn goes off to make coffee, leaving Han with Rey.

“So, what brings you here, Mr. Solo?” she asks, leading the way back to the sofas. Han sits down and a large, fluffy white cat with orange blotches on its head and tail climbs imperiously onto his lap and begins purring while stomping on his thighs. 

“Holy shit,” Han mutters. “This must be the world’s oldest cat. It’s Mothma, right?” He quirks an eyebrow at Rey. She nods, surprised that he knows the cat’s name. “It’s some kind of super rare expensive Turkish breed. I bought Ben this kitten for his tenth birthday. He acted all tough and like he didn’t want anything cute, but they got along all right together. I think he named her Mothra, ‘cuz of all the old Godzilla movies he was watching at the time, but for whatever reason Padmé couldn’t ever remember that and called her Mothma.”

“Well, she seems to like you all right, but it might just be that you’re sitting in Ben’s spot,” Rey points out. 

Han scowls a little. “Where is he, anyway? I went for a surprise visit to see my wife at her rehab clinic, and they tell me her son checked her out a month and a half ago. He and Padmé aren’t answering their phones, either. Can you fill me in on what’s going on here?”

Rey purses her lips, accepting a cup of coffee from Finn, who has returned to the room. “I wish I could tell you. I did meet your wife in early November when she was here for a couple days. She seemed to be doing well. But she, Padmé and Ben said they had matters to take care of because of a death in the family.”

“A death in the family?” Han rubs his chin. “I didn’t know there was any family. That’s something Leia and I had in common — one of the few things — no siblings, no cousins, no weird uncles. Strange.”

“That’s what Léon said,” Rey nods. 

“Who’s Léon?” Han asks.

“He’s an elderly Italian fellow I knew growing up in Everett. Apparently, he also knew Padmé when she was growing up in Somerville, and he tracked her down recently. Comes into the cafe a lot to hang out.”

Han shakes his head. He didn’t even know his mother-in-law was from the Boston area in the first place. Apparently, there’s a lot he doesn’t know. 

Finn’s checking his watch. “Well, I’m sorry we can’t help you any more, Mr. Solo. Rey and I usually eat lunch pretty soon on days off. You want to join us?”

Han sighs, swiping a hand down his face in a gesture that looks terribly familiar to Rey. “Yeah, sure, I’d love that.”

“Rey was going to do her awesome roast beef sandwiches. That work for you?” Finn asks.

“Yeah, sure. I’m going to send some business emails for a few minutes,” Han announces, and starts tapping away on his phone. For one thing, he’s going to have someone on his staff investigate these people who are living in Ben and Padmé’s house and running her cafe. He also wonders in what capacity the girl has been living "with" his son for a year. Are they just housemates or is something more going on?

Finn’s right. Rey’s roast beef sandwiches are excellent, and they wash them down with bottles of Mayflower Porter, it being a holiday and all. Han regales them with stories from his recent skydiving expedition, and gets the two young people to talk about their degrees and career aspirations beyond running his mother-in-law’s cafe when she fucks off to who knows where. This Rey kid is actually pretty bright, he thinks, as she describes her robotics research and senior thesis. Maybe he needs to see if there’s a robotics component to the Solo Galactic project that he could hire her on to. If not, maybe she could do something with his car collection. Sounds like she has some expertise in automotive as well.

Eventually, though, a couple of hours have passed, and Han realizes he’s not getting anything done by bumming around on Finn and Rey’s couch. He thanks them, exchanges numbers with a reminder to call him if they find out anything about his family members’ whereabouts, and dons his cold-weather gear. 

But when he opens the front door and steps out onto the porch, he stops dead, words of farewell dying in his throat. The Porsche isn’t where he left it.

“Um, Rey? Finn?” he calls. “Any idea where my car’s gone to?”

The two young people exchange glances. “You didn’t park it in front of the red house, did you?”

“Next door? Yeah, why?”

“Like, right where they have the sign about violators will be towed?”

“But it’s a holiday!” Han protests. “Nobody tows on a holiday!”

Rey sighs. “Sadly, it’s tomorrow that’s the holiday. Have to obey traffic and parking restrictions on New Year’s Eve, I’m afraid. Look, it happens to everyone,” she reassures him. “Even Ben’s gotten towed. And Padmé. I’ve been towed three times in just one year. I definitely don’t mind helping you get your car back.”

Han kind-of wants to smash something, but it’s not really his style, so he settles for grumbling a series of curse words as he goes back into the house.

“First you have to call the police station,” Rey remarks with the air of someone who knows this process like the back of her hand. “They’ll need to see your driving license and that it matches with the owner listed on the registration.”

“It’s a rental,” Han says, frowning. He dials the number anyway. The conversation starts out gruff, but apparently the desk sergeant is in no mood to be accommodating to a guy who got his rental Porsche towed on New Year’s Eve. Eventually things escalate to yelling and, on Han’s part, the threat of a lawsuit. He thumbs off his phone and throws it onto the sofa. “Fuck!”

“That bad, eh?” Rey heads for the liquor cabinet. “How about some of Padmé’s whisky while we sort this?”

Han feels some of the rage clearing and looks at her, really looks at her. “Yeah. You’re a smart one, you know?” he says, with his patented stabbing pointing gesture. “You ever think about working in London, you look me up, you hear?”

“Sure, Mr. Solo,” Rey smiles, pouring small servings into three heavy cut crystal glasses and handing the other two to Finn and Han. “For now, though, we need to come up with a plan to rescue your vehicle.”

“Rescue?” he looks up over his glass, taking a long sip and swirling it around. His mother-in-law had good taste in liquor, at least. Unless it’s his son stocking the whisky at this point. Fucked if he knows. Hasn’t seen the kid since his first year at Annapolis. “I figured I’d take a cab back to my hotel and have my lawyers sort it out.”

“Normally I’d say that’s an excellent idea. But it’s New Year’s Eve, and let me tell you, the guys who work at garages and tow places are not going to be paying attention to their job,” Rey says conspiratorially. 

Finn looks at her in surprise. “Rey! What are you thinking? This is not the Rey I know.”

Rey shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m just feeling in the mood for a caper.”

Han is nodding, slowly. “It just might work, assuming you know where we’re going. I never gave my name to the cops on the phone, and I didn’t leave the rental paperwork in the car, so there isn’t a paper trail. And I give you my word, if we get nabbed, I’ll have the best lawyers in Boston on your case in no time.”

Rey grins and it’s brilliant. “Excellent! Finn, if you don’t mind helping out, I have a non-criminal role for you too.”

“If you insist,” he says hesitantly. Social work isn’t exactly a field that looks kindly on a criminal record. But if Rey says his role is on the up-and-up, he’ll trust her.

“Ok, here’s the plan.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnotes: So I know Porro is about as dumb a name as Sheev, but hey, it’s a real Naboo guy’s name! https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Porro_Dolphe
> 
> Speaking of Naboo, remember that in this plot, all handmaidens that survived the bombing by Zam Wesell were Force sensitive. Obviously they didn't have high enough midichlorians to be taken away as children and trained as Jedi, rather like Palpatine. Maybe it's a Naboo thing. 
> 
> Side note, my normal practice is fade-to-black when the sexual encounter involves non-central ships. If you really want to hear the details of Han's or Leia's infidelities, or whatever Luke gets up to, or what happened when Thor slept over (or if you really DON'T), say the word in the comments! 
> 
> Also, I recently corrected a continuity error in chapter 18. Let me know if you ever spot any inconsistencies!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Ieldraan argue about the best way to solve the problem of a Palpatine. Meanwhile, Han, Rey, and Finn get into the New Year's Eve spirit with a little Grand Theft Auto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo sorry for the delay! The Rey/Finn/Han part was written months ago, but the other bits have needed a lot of careful editing.

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 1, Day 2 (5.6.1.2 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

“Come on, Leia. You can _do_ this,” Luke urges, his exasperation peaking. She may be right that they are “closing the barn door after the horse is gone” — whatever a horse is, he thinks it might be a kind of speeder? — but he is determined to help her approach Ben’s standard of blaster defense. The next time the imperial remnants send a rogue fighter against Chandrila, Luke wants to have three people who can stop it.

For Ben, Luke’s goal is that the man learn to control his emotions. Ben is making huge strides with his Force use, but still has worrying lapses with his anger. Yesterday and today, though, he seems somehow more calm and integrated than Luke would have expected. He meditates without complaint, lifts objects, sends telepathic messages of better than average clarity, stands on his hands while dodging the remote. His training saber forms are the picture of grace and power.

Whatever Luke asks, since the attack, Ben tries it and accomplishes it flawlessly. Maybe his grumpy nephew just needed the incentive of understanding just how real the dangers they face are. Who knows. He still pulses with dark Force energy. Luke will need to consult with the Force Ghosts again if he has any hope of taking Ben from a competent but dangerous Force user to a true Jedi.

But Leia is a different problem altogether. She’s still growing by leaps and bounds on the mental training, but every physical exercise sparks an argument. Luke’s had enough for the day. He calls a chamois to his hand and wipes the sweat from his face and neck. “Let’s call it, folks,” he says mournfully. Leia and Ben look up at him, two pairs of matching brown eyes that seem to accuse him for his failings as a teacher. “Padmé wanted to talk to us anyway. Something about an old friend that visited her yesterday.”

The three separate to their quarters in ever-hospitable Bail Organa’s town home. Luke rips his training clothes off, replaces them with a clean khaki shirt and cargo pants, and is down in the living room in minutes. Ben steps into the fresher, then dresses carefully in a brown wrap tunic and pants that scream Alderaan all over them. Sometimes, clothing can be armor. This will show he’s invested, he’s on their team. Leia takes her time changing and restyling her hair, thinking about her exasperating brother, her unexpectedly calm son, and their imperturbable host. She wonders how lonely Bail must have been to lose his entire planet, wonders if that makes him so willing to play the host, but then thinks about how little she misses her own planet.

At last they’re all together, Luke sipping his blue milk, Padmé reclining in the most comfortable chair with Bail standing behind her looking busy with his datapad. 

“We heard something surprising yesterday,” Padmé begins, cutting to the chase. “The great enemy, the Emperor Palpatine, had a son, who disappeared or went into hiding more than thirty-five years ago. We have a name, Porro Palpatine, and we know he was erased from public memory some time after 32 BBY. We don’t know anything else. I’d like to tell the new Senate and get their input, but Bail rightly points out that the Imperial remnants may on the one hand be inspired by the hope that young Palpatine will come to lead them. Or, they may be as much in the dark as everyone else, and letting his existence become common knowledge could be dangerous for us.”

Luke is appalled, and meeting his sister’s glance he sees that she is, too. Now, obviously children do not always follow their father’s footsteps. They themselves are a case in point. But until proven otherwise, this mysterious Porro Palpatine is probably a terrible danger to the stability and safety of Ieldraan. “How can we find him?” Luke asks.

“My friend, who is an archivist on Naboo, is investigating there since that’s where the man was born. If any elderly people remember Palpatine’s son, we can get more information,” Padmé answers. “But your abilities in the Force may be our best hope. If Porro is as strong a force for evil as his father, you may be able to detect that signature in the Force, right?” Luke nods slowly. It’s possible, though there are so many ways to hide oneself. 

Ben clears his throat. "I have felt something that seems evil," he offers. "Meditating like you advised me, Luke. It's happened a couple of times that my consciousness is observing the different realms, and there are light and dark areas. One of the dark realms has a very cold and evil presence on it."

Luke shrugs. "Anakin mentioned that. But how we tell that "an evil" is "the evil" we're looking for...it's a big ask."

“And if we find him?” Leia asks, eyebrow raised.

“You all use your Jedi skills to track him down and bring him in, then the Senate can determine if there was an imperial plot,” Padmé responds, as if it was obvious. "I don['t know how long Mace and Thor will be away, but their assistance could be important as well, especially if we find he is on a different realm."

Leia nods. “Right. _If_ we find him.”

But Ben shakes his head slowly. “No, Nonna, bringing a Palpatine before the new Senate is not going to work out. Trust me. I don’t like to say it any more than you do, but no good is going to come to this galaxy from having any Palpatines left in it. We find this guy, we end him, end of story.” Bail is nodding in the background, the shadow of decades of rebellion flitting across his expression.

Luke frowns. “Don’t you think the same logic would apply to descendants of Vader? And what if this guy has kids? They could be little kids or teenagers. Are we going to kill them too?”

“I’m not saying I _want_ to kill kids, Luke,” Ben huffs. “Maybe they raise them differently here. Lot of the men chucking bombs at me back on Earth were still holding their dad’s grudge about the Russians, and grandpa’s about the British, and, fuck, they’re pissed that Roxane sold them out to Alexander the fucking Great, twenty-three hundred years ago. Yeah, we’re Vader’s heirs, we’re just as bad. But it’s never going to end unless somebody ends the cycle. So do we let a Palpatine end it? Or do we end it?” He lets out a deep breath, draws a new one, before continuing. “Remember, folks, I’m not from around here. If Leia and I solve your problem, we can go home and you can forget about us and enjoy your new Sith-free realm. Nobody left to have a cycle of vengeance. Think about it.” 

He meets his mother’s eyes. She looks appalled. Their bond is open, and he understands: it’s not that she’s appalled by him, by what he’s done, by what he would do to achieve the result he thinks they need. It’s that…she’s horrified that her son has to make these calculations, has made these calculations, is willing to make these calculations and live with the consequences. But she doesn't voice any of this aloud. When she opens her mouth, it's just to say "I'm not going home, Ben. Not any time soon."

Bail speaks solemnly. “I’ve tried to prosecute this rebellion with minimal casualties for decades. But Ben’s right. We don’t have a prison that could hold a Force user of Palpatine’s power. We don’t have a military that could defend against his crazy supporters if they come to rescue him. Kriff, we don’t even have confirmation that Palpatine is actually dead. We can’t hold back if we manage to find his son. But if there’s kids, let’s find another way to deal with them. House arrest on Earth maybe — no Force there to worry about, right?”

Padmé still frowns, disappointed. “There’s nothing to be gained by planning to kill these people. Bail is right that an Earth prison could hold any Force user with no problems. We could get Mace to put anyone into custody, even Sheev for heaven’s sake!”

Luke cuts in. “If Mace happens to be around, sure, we can ask him that favor. Though you’d think someone would have thought of it before now.”

“Nobody knew what was happening until it was too late,” Bail points out. “The very day they figured out Palpatine was the Sith, he conned Anakin into joining him and they threw Mace out a window to what they thought was his doom. I don’t think we can solve this moral dilemma on our own, much as I sympathize with Ben’s perspective. We need to talk to Obi-Wan.”

“Why Obi?” asks Padmé.

“He’s the one who caused Anakin unimaginable pain, but still refrained from dealing the killing blow. Then Vader killed him years later. If there’s anyone with twenty-twenty hindsight on whether it’s better to preemptively eliminate anyone who might be a Sith, it’s him,” Bail answers.

* * *

_Somerville, Massachusetts. December 31, 2014_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Dusk is falling and packs of overdressed young people are roaming toward their New Year’s Eve festivities when Rey and Han pile out of her Corolla a few blocks before the impound lot, between Tufts and the Mystic River. Finn is at the wheel; he drives on and parks in the side lot of a pokey liquor store. His first task is to stock up on cava and load it in the Corolla. 

Han and Rey start walking northwest along Route 16. They’re both dressed in dark clothing. On Han’s part, this had involved a certain amount of argument, but Rey eventually shoved one of Ben’s black thermal shirts over the man’s head, handed him a toque, and told him it was her way or the highway. She noticed that he took Ben’s black leather jacket on the way out the door, too — probably to avoid snagging his cashmere overcoat at the impound lot, but she liked to think maybe the man was getting into the ninja spirit. The jacket, a sleek style rather than a classic motorcycle or bomber shape, was too long in the arms, but other than that both Solo men seem to be cut from similar cloth.

Rey is taking the opportunity to playtest a robotic device she recently developed. It’s a drone for painting. She intended for it to be useful for anyone who wants to avoid paint fumes — auto body repair people, pregnant ladies decorating the nursery — and tricky painting locations like her fellow barista Sabine’s more ambitious public art projects. She hasn’t quite gotten the controls perfect, and she doesn’t want to actually commit vandalism, so tonight it’s just loaded with squid ink from Padmé’s favorite Italian specialty grocery. She flies the drone up to each security camera she spots in the liquor store parking lot and along her walking route, and sprays the lens with ink. Finn isn’t going to commit any crimes, so if he or the car are spotted on camera it’s no big deal. But she doesn’t want her and Han’s activities associated with Finn or the car.

In just a few minutes they’re approaching the rear of the impound lot for Mickey’s Towing, where all the cars removed from Somerville streets end up. The lot is dark and still, no one moving around; just one light on in the front office, fifty meters or more away on the Mystic Street side of the lot. Rey shoves the drone in her parka pocket and pulls out some heavy bolt cutters. She sets to work making a discreet opening in the chain links along one of the fence posts, where she and Han can slide in when they’re ready. He’s prowling around the exterior of the fence meanwhile, and quickly locates his car, the one and only Porsche on the lot. The keys are the one issue. Rey’s equipped and ready to boost it if need be, but hopefully their plan will allow for a more civilized approach.

Rey checks her phone. In three minutes, Finn should be in position. She hopes he remembered to pour some of the cava on himself to create the right atmosphere. And — yes, there he is. Right on time or even early, she sees Finn in the distance walking up the sidewalk past the front of the impound lot. He’s talking loudly into his phone, gesticulating from time to time to make a point.

Finn’s conversation goes on and on, and all the while he paces back and forth in front of Mickey’s Towing. His voice rises higher. Nothing he’s doing is illegal; he’s on a public sidewalk, having a conversation that might be too loud if this were a residential neighborhood, but it’s not; and he’d pass a breathalyzer easily even if he doesn’t smell like it. However, and this is what Rey’s counting on — Finn is a Black man doing something vaguely annoying in greater Boston. 

It takes less than ten minutes for the security guard to burst out of the office of Mickey’s Towing, shouting. By the time the guy is on the sidewalk cursing at Finn, Rey and Han have slipped through the fence. Han creeps over to the Panamera while Rey takes point and slips into the office, predictably left unlocked. Her teen years spent doing oil changes pay off; it takes her just moments to find the right keys and steal the paperwork to go with them. She nearly knocks over an open forty of Schlitz on the filing cabinet — evidence of how the guard planned to spend his evening — and runs the keys out to Han. The guard is still yelling at Finn, who is continuing to yell in his phone as if to show how little he cares for the guard’s sensibilities.

Now it’s time for the coup de grace. Han unlocks the Porsche and slips into the driver’s seat, shooting Rey a thumbs up. She slides back into the tow office. A few taps at the security console and the front gate starts to roll open, the anti-theft spikes folding down into the ground. Han guns it and shoots out the gate, as the stunned guard runs after him screaming. Rey counted on this reaction, so she takes advantage of the moment to shut the gate again, hurrying out the hole in the back fence. She and Finn each pound the pavement back to the liquor store on parallel roads while the Mickey’s Towing guard is still infuriatedly shaking the gate that separates him from the office where his keys and phone lie on the desk.

Rey and Finn drive back to Padmé’s in the Corolla, unloading the case of bubbly and laughing. “I hope to God Han was serious that he’ll help us out with lawyers if need be,” Rey says, shaking her head.

Finn builds a cozy fire in the fireplace and they start it with a rolled up towing receipt in triplicate. A few minutes later Rey’s phone rings. It’s Han. She picks up.

“I’d like to thank you for a more entertaining New Year’s Eve than I expected,” he says, his voice betraying a smile even over the cellular connection. “Remember to call me if you need a lawyer, but I think we’re good. I gave the valet here $500 to say my rental never left the hotel garage today. You kids have a good New Year’s, all right?”

“Sure thing, sir,” Rey says, smiling in return. “But do you think I could get Ben’s clothes back from you? He might be royally pissed if he never sees them again.”

“He’d have to come back, first, wouldn’t he?” Han grouses. “But yeah, sure, I’ll courier ‘em over. I’m off back to London tomorrow night. Keep me posted if any of the family shows up, I just want to make sure everyone’s safe. We’ll probably all be happier if we don’t actually see one another. But do remember what I said about a job.”

“Got it, Mr. Solo! Happy 2015!” Rey hangs up and smiles at Finn as the fire flickers before them. The cava sparkles in Padmé’s lovely flutes, and elderly Mothma is curled up next to her, fluffy orange tail twitching. It was a more entertaining New Year’s Eve than Rey expected, too. 

Finn takes a long sip, then looks over at her from the sofa. "Any big goals for 2015?" he prods.

Rey takes a while in answering, looking at the brightly dancing flames, feeling their warmth as well as the internal warmth of cava and friendship. "Well, job one of course is to follow your advice: relax and refresh and really think about what I want out of life after college." She flashes her friend a dazzling grin. "But the more I think about it, the more decent options I turn up, and then I feel even further from a decision. I love robotics," she explains, waving her glass in the air for emphasis, "so a job in R&D would be great fun. Han seemed to be suggesting that I could do robotics for some top-secret part of Solo Group, which is massively tempting, though their offices are in London and Los Angeles, which aren’t really at the top of my list."

Finn nods thoughtfully. "You know that if you move away you'll still have your friends. I'm not going to stick up for you any less if you are on the other coast. You've been right here near Boston for all of your life that you can remember, but the age we are now is really good for trying new things. Padmé can find someone else to help me with the cafe and you can go take whatever opportunity calls to you."

Rey flushes. Finn is right; it's partly fear of the unknown that is geographically constraining her search. But that's not all. "I also envy you, Finn," she says eventually. "Your chosen career is going to have such a huge impact on vulnerable kids, people like I once was. Most jobs in my field are focused on solving the problems of industry, or of rich people — I don't really want to optimize floor mopping robots, you know?” She has considered a switch to a Ph.D. in biomedical engineering, so she could work on robotic prosthetics, but biology wasn’t really her strong suit. Machines that aid the human body without directly interfacing with it are more her speed. 

"I hear you," Finn commiserates. "You'll get paid better than me, though, and can volunteer for whatever nonprofit I land at." It's his turn to smile broadly. "I'll guilt you into it, don't worry."

Rey laughs and finishes her glass of bubbly. "Enough about my jobs. How are things with Poe?"

"Well as a matter of fact," Finn clears his throat, "I hope it's okay, but I said he could come over before the ball drops."

"I see how it is," Rey teases. "You two are too precious."

Finn's face warms with delight. "He's brilliant, you know? I've been reading those books you had him help you pick out for my graduation. Langston Hughes is fucking amazing. I'm sorry I never listened when you told me I should read some things that weren't for work."

Rey laughs. "I guess life works better for both of us when we listen to each other. Now I just have to follow your advice and get a hobby, eh?" They clink glasses and enjoy the final hours of 2014.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 1, Day 3 (5.6.1.3 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Ben wakes with a smile. This is the second time in a week that he’s had a really good dream. Not like it was anything outlandish. Real life is outlandish enough right now. In both dreams he was curled around Rey in his bed in Bail’s comfortable guest room, cuddling and supporting one another. At some point in the dream his cat Mothma would materialize in the bed, poking him insistently, at which point he would wake up feeling unusually refreshed. 

(It’s actually pretty funny, now that he’s met Mon Mothma, to think about how his cat Mothra ended up named after a politician from another galaxy. Their temperaments have literally nothing in common. While the cat could be annoying, at least he’s not dreaming of middle-aged Chandrilan politicians showing up in his bed.) 

He stretches, enjoying that profound and inexplicable feeling of wholeness and energy that comes after one of these dreams of Rey. A hard-on maybe he could understand from dreaming of hot chicks, but general well-being is beyond expectations. 

Ben sighs as he pulls on workout clothes. Force training wasn’t too bad now that he was getting used to it. If only he could keep the good from Earth (5010 Group, proper wine, Rey) as well as the good from Ieldraan (having a mom, having superpowers, space travel). Eventually, having two lives is going to tear him apart. How had Padmé coped, he wonders? 

After a long run by the shore, he feels alert and focused. He's promised Leia they'll brunch together before they relocate back to Yavin IV for more training. He finds her on Bail's terrace. Leia looks up at him inquisitively, gesturing for him to take a seat. “Well?” she asks as he complies.

Ben sighs. It’s constantly both harder to hide his feelings from his mother, because of their strengthening bond, and easier, because of his burgeoning Force skills. “Yeah, I’m disappointed. Their plan sucks. What do you want me to say?” He shrugs and takes a large bite of whatever the meat pie thingy is that Bail’s kitchen droids are the absolute masters at cooking.

Leia nods in commiseration. “It’s going to take them forever to search the ten realms for a man who may or may not even be alive. I know you think you felt a source of evil in one of the dark realms, and my father backs you up. But that doesn’t mean that has anything to do with Palpatine or his son. For all we know, it could be yet a different source of ancient evil, one we don’t want to wake up!”

Ben shakes his head. “It still makes sense to start from the one clue we’ve got. Though, if we did find the guy, Padmé says Obi-Wan disagreed with my assessment that eliminating the threat was the best way to end the cycle of violence in the realm.”

“You can’t really blame him,” his mother replies. “Luke’s his student, and Vader did come back and turn against the Emperor in the end—who’s to say whether your uncle could have defeated Palpatine at all if Obi-Wan had killed Vader. Personally, I'm not enthused about your idea that you and I can just leave Ieldraan. I have no need to be dragged back to rehab by your father.”

“Nonna’s idea that we’re going to imprison these characters on Earth just seems like asking for trouble. Earth has enough shit to deal with without Sith rescue missions invading,” Ben mutters.

“She has a lot of faith in SHIELD, but you and I don’t really understand what she did or what they do,” Leia points out. “They might be entirely up to the challenge and then you wouldn’t have to have more blood on your hands. Or Luke, or whoever hunts the guy down. I don’t think Luke is really temperamentally suited to killing people face to face.”

Something clicks for Ben when she says that. "You're right," he says slowly. "He’s such a pilot at heart." Luke is a lot like the guys Ben knew who seemed like they could stay stone cold after bombing villages. Ben’s always been close enough to his kills to see their faces, at least through a sniper scope. There’s no room to pretend they aren’t people. It’s why he doesn’t usually sleep well. But sometimes, someone’s gotta do it. 

“Earth to Ben?” Leia waves a hand, calling him out of his reverie. She selects another small fruit and pops it into her mouth. “Luke said we’re going back to Yavin for a special expedition. Something about lightsabers. It better be good, because I think I have about one, maybe two more weeks of patience for that jungle. It's better than Chroma Wellness, but Jedi training is spectacularly not my thing,” she says, stating the obvious with a wry smile.

“Yeah,” Ben laughs, “I could tell. But hey, since you’re here Luke and I probably won’t punch each other in the face, right?”

Just then the door slides open and Luke saunters onto the patio. “Hey guys, any food left for me?” he says with a smile.

Leia laughs. “Just like my lit professor used to say: _Lupus in fabula_. I guess we could make it _Lucas in fabula_. Of course there’s food, brother, come sit down!” she smiles back at him. Even if there’s conflict between him and her son, Leia is so glad to have this time with her brother. Luke, exasperating goof though he may be, is a big part of why she feels so whole here in Ieldraan. Though, to be honest, it’s not that he’s unique in being an exasperating goof. She can think of two men named Solo in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now that they're going back to Yavin I can share this cool archaeology news about the Maya sites that are Yavin filming locations. Ben's hidden mini Sith temple might someday be excavated...
> 
> http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20200914-in-guatemala-the-maya-world-untouched-for-centuries


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben is back on Yavin IV, where he finds some answers, but they only raise more questions. Rey gets a hobby, many bruises, and an unexpectedly interactive dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey are not siblings. Regardless of what anyone thinks momentarily in this story or elsewhere, don't worry, I wouldn't do that to them.

_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 2, Day 1 (5.6.2.1 ABY)_  
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

  
As soon as they disembark on Yavin IV, Ben makes a beeline for his room. It’s been untouched since they left, because most of the Alliance/New Republic personnel have rotated off Yavin, leaving just an essential maintenance and comms team. The base doesn’t warrant military defense at the moment, or so Mon Mothma has determined. 

The door slides open and Ben puts down his rucksack, moving on toward the bed to begin rifling through the blankets that remain in just the disarray he left them in. Unsurprisingly, there’s his laptop in the slightly musty-smelling tangle of sheets and duvet. Also unsurprisingly, its battery is totally drained. Time to test out the recharging options he brought from Earth.

He digs the portable solar charger out of the bottom of the pack and takes it and the laptop outside onto one of the broad terraces of the old temple that houses the base. He knows there are experimental chargers that capture even wider ranges of the electromagnetic spectrum than what he was able to snag for this trip, but he hopes that Yavin, the confusingly named sun orbited by the planet Yavin and its gaggle of moons, is emitting similar enough radiation to good old Sol to make this work. Even if the charger works, because of its small size, it’s going to be slow. It’ll be tomorrow before he can get back to transcribing the letter. 

Leaving the equipment on the terrace, Ben heads back inside. He’ll share a bite with Leia while Luke gets the maintenance droids to mow the training fields. The jungle foliage on this planet is aggressive, to say the least. He finds his mother in her rooms, which are a bit nicer than his because they were intended to bunk more people. She got him to drag a table in here at some point in their prior stay, and now she’s spread out some of the food they brought from Chandrila on the table. A last good meal before unknown weeks of rations.

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 2, Day 2 (5.6.2.2 ABY)_  
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

At long last the portable solar panel has managed to charge Ben’s laptop, and he has a quiet hour ahead of him. He opens the file with the image of the first page he’d photographed, and the document with the transcription he’d begun just before they returned to Chandrila. The mention of Asgard jumps out at him now. Whoever addressed the letter to Jane and Nick was an Asgardian; quite possibly Thor, he thinks, though it’s a big realm and he’s only met two Asgardians. 

It’s hard to transcribe carefully and not rush, given how much Ben wants to read the rest of the letter. What treasures came to Earth from Ieldraan with Rey’s adoptive father? After long effort, he’s finally done.

> _I send you this letter by the hand of a man I would trust with my very life. Lor San Tekka is a disciple of the Force and has long served my family. He brings with him two treasures, which I commit to your protection._
> 
> _As you know, in Asgard it is impossible to age, so we have a tradition of sending children out to be fostered on other realms. Lor San Tekka is a unique Ieldraanian, who balances great Force skills with non-involvement in the epochal struggle of Jedi and Sith. As a result he has fostered children for Asgard in the past. Currently he is caring for an Ieldraanian youngling of immense power. Lor has become concerned that the expansion of the Galactic Empire’s chokehold on Ieldraan may lead to the child being identified as a Force user and killed by the Inquisitors, or worse._
> 
> _Lor therefore used the old Jedi wayfinder holocron in his possession to travel to Asgard with the child. Both of them have secrets it’s best to keep from the Emperor, and we have decided that the child will be safest hidden from the Force for a time, making Midgard the best place for continued fostering. While it will impede Force training to be on Earth for a time, the child’s life and safety are much more precious to us._
> 
> _I hope with all my heart that I will have the opportunity to escort the two treasures--holocron and youngling--to your care personally. Odin’s wrath at my perceived irresponsibility, and his ignorance of this plan, preclude me from spending more than a day on Earth. So circumstances may intervene and require Lor to approach you on his own. If so, he can explain to you what you need to know about the child’s identity._
> 
> _When last I wrote you desired me to update you on the political situation in Ieldraan, specifically as it pertains to Naboo, Alderaan, and Coruscant._

The news updates about events three years before the battle of Yavin span three pages. Ben scans through them laboriously, finding nothing of particular interest to his family except for a few terse sentences about Luke. Apparently he was in good health, an active teenager who aspired to attend the Imperial Academy and become a pilot. The letter-writer notes he is unlikely to grow to be very tall, and they apologize for giving so few details of Luke’s daily life — a result of the great secrecy around his whereabouts. _I can give more detail when next I see Fury in person_ , the paragraph concludes.

The final page is, unfortunately, irretrievably blurry. He thinks he can make out the bold signature of Thor Odinson at the bottom, but everything before it is smeared across the page. He must have moved while taking the photo, surprised by Rey coming into the room all those months ago.

Well, it is what it is. Rey’s adoptive father brought a child to Earth from Ieldraan with help from Thor, because the child was Force-sensitive and therefore in danger from the Empire. He can’t confirm without asking Thor, and for whatever reason, Thor lost touch with Lor San Tekka and the child many years ago. But everything seems to suggest that the child Lor San Tekka raised — his adoptive daughter Regina, or Rey — was in fact an Ieldraanian Force user of “immense power.” 

Ben wonders how this revelation intersects with the recent discovery that the evil galactic Emperor had a missing son. Was it possible that Lor San Tekka was Porro Palpatine, in hiding? Devoting himself to protecting children from his evil father? Or was it simply a fad for both sides of the Force to hide promising children? He needs to discuss this with Luke, or Padmé, or someone. Is it delusional to think that his grandmother’s barista and renter, subject of his dreams, could be Ieldraanian?

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. January 12, 2015_  
_Earth/Midgard_

It’s a very long Monday. Classes don’t start up again for the spring semester until Wednesday, but Rey’s advisor wants to check in about her plans, so they have a long meeting at the lab in the morning. It’s intense, but leads to some clarity: Rey doesn’t want to expand her thesis beyond its original scope or apply to doctoral programs right away. Her advisor shares some good leads on jobs to apply for and is enthusiastic about her side projects, including the painting drone. After updating some forms with the bursar Rey makes her way to the cafe for her usual afternoon shift. Afterwards, though, she does something she hasn’t done in years.

Rey goes back to martial arts.

Finn has been giving her a hard time for months about how she doesn’t have any hobbies besides reading adventure novels, and how this is impeding her ability to meet hot boys. She always points out that her main extracurriculars growing up were auto maintenance, because she got paid to do oil changes, and judo, because her dad got paid to teach people judo, so it was the only way he could afford to spend time with her when he wasn’t dead tired.

Rey has kept tinkering with her car in the warmer months, and Finn acknowledges that it basically is a hobby at this point, but one that certainly doesn’t help her meet people. But she hasn’t been to a judo club since her first semester in college. The Tufts club was far from serious anyway, and she couldn’t really spare the time or afford the equipment (and laundry!) when she was homeless. 

Today, she drops in to a highly rated mixed martial arts studio. She can see why reviewers think it’s great: the place is clean and spacious with high quality mats and higher quality competition. She’s out of practice, but the other participants don’t give her shit about it. Judo is a little different than the Brazilian jiujitsu most of these guys are trained in, and nobody goes easy on her, so she is sporting quite a large crop of bruises when she gets home at 9:30 pm. 

Rey trades a few words with Finn while she downs a leftover half sandwich from the refrigerator with a concoction she and Finn call the “Rhode Island Smoothie:” milk and protein powder with Autocrat coffee syrup, a weird blend one of Finn’s semi-platonic friends introduced them to years ago. Her shower is as long as she can dare before the hot water will run out, letting it soothe the knots out of her muscles. She wraps her hair in a towel and ties on a robe, then heads up to the attic. She’s basically moved into Ben’s rooms by this point, with a little more of her stuff migrating up to the third floor each week. It’s pleasantly cozy up there in the drafty Somerville winter.

She’s glad of the coziness as she putters around in her robe, pawing through her travel toiletry kit to find the tube of arnica gel. Reclining on the bed, propped up with a pillow, she queues up some suitably somniferous trance music and unties her robe, surveying the constellation of purpling bruises. 

Rey sighs. Either she forgot how hard martial arts was on the body, or she takes more damage now at the advanced age of 21. There’s a big bruise right on her pelvic bone that is sure to go through the lovely green and yellow phases before she’s done with it. She spreads the clear gel on it, then addresses the string of bruises on her shins. One of the other combatants must have been trained in Muay Thai, not jiujitsu. She shrugs out of the robe to apply the gel to the fingerprint shaped bruises on her upper arm, where grappling got intense, and the abrasion on her clavicle where she made contact with someone’s forehead. 

She’s exhausted. She doesn’t even bother getting under the duvet or putting the robe back on. She just rolls over, wrapping the robe over herself as she drifts off in the warm loft.

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 2, Day 3 (5.6.2.3 ABY)_  
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

Ben’s doing his meditation. Well, sort of. Mostly, he’s trying to use physical challenges to keep his focus on using the Force to manipulate his immediate surroundings, rather than let his mind wander off with further wondering about what he learned from the letter the other day. He still hasn’t talked about it with Luke or Leia, because he doesn’t know how to start with explaining that he photographed Nonna’s top-secret letter after she specifically prohibited reading what was in the case.

So he’s standing on his hands. He’s realizing just how much sweat he produces in a jungle climate. One determined rivulet originated between his pecs and has made his way down to his throat, curling around his jaw to bother his ear. He wonders if there’s a Jedi skill that encourages sweat to evaporate away magically into the cosmic Force.

He used the Force to make up his bed already, and now he’s using it to lift the bunk off the ground and put it back down, as gently as possible. While he has the bed lifted he practices reciting the Aurebesh alphabet with his eyes closed, then he opens his eyes to make sure the rugged old bunk is still levitating before he concentrates on letting it sink to the floor. Then he repeats. It’s a stupid exercise, but no more random than the shit they used to do in SEAL training.

He lifts the bed a fourth time. His shoulders are starting to protest the strain of supporting his bulk for so long, so he tries to shift the discomfort away from himself into the Force and draw its living energy into himself to augment his stance. It seems to work; he’s less uncomfortable now than a minute ago. But as he closes his eyes and recites the alphabet, keeping the bed elevated seems a bit harder this time, like it’s gotten even heavier. 

When he opens his eyes, there seems to be a reason why it’s gotten heavier. There’s a naked woman on the bed. His breath catches in his throat and he drops the bunk to the floor as he loses his composure and focus, because while any naked woman materializing in his room would be startling enough, this isn’t just any woman. 

It’s Rey of all people.

Which is impossible, of course, because Rey is on Earth.

Ben flips down from his handstand and shakes his head as his circulation struggles to adjust, tingling sensations tracking through his limbs. At the same time, apparently the jarring motion of the bed dropping has awakened Rey, because she stirs with a soft groan and stretches those long golden limbs. Her body is covered in fresh bruises, which brings a look of concern to Ben’s face as he steps tentatively closer to his bed.

“Rey?”

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. January 12, 2015_  
_Earth/Midgard_

It must be the middle of the night when Rey startles awake. She stretches and moans, noticing that she never even turned off the reading lamp when she fell asleep. She also hadn’t gotten around to putting anything on, apparently.

She rubs her eyes, opening them as she sits up, only to let out a startled shriek. Ben Solo is standing at the foot of the bed, sweaty and panting with exertion, his hair crazed and his eyes even more so as he tries and fails to look at her face. “Rey?” he says tentatively. He steps closer.

“Ben?”

Ah. She hasn’t actually startled awake. This must just be another Ben dream. Maybe a sort of lucid one, she hopes, as she pulls at her robe and tries to speak.

“Ben? You can’t really be here,” she answers herself. “I’m dreaming.”

“I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I don’t think I’m asleep. The Force may be more powerful… Have you seen me before? In dreams?”

Rey blushes, but decides to lean into it. She gives up on pulling the robe back on. “Yes, I have. You cuddled me in this bed. Don’t you remember, dream Ben?”

Ben blanches. “I…I do remember. Though it was a different bed. I don’t know how it’s possible.”

“Of course it isn’t possible, silly,” Rey laughs. “Here, come join me. I deserve a good dream after a rough day.”

He moves another step or two closer, slowly. “It does look like a rough day. What happened to you? Are you ok? Who hurt you?”

“I’m fine, just did some MMA this evening,” she says dismissively. “Not like when you show up in a velvet suit smelling like a house fire.”

“That…” Ben gulps. “That happened. So either you’re a figment of my imagination or this is real.”

“No, _you’re_ a figment of _my_ imagination,” Rey pouts. “Come on, let’s stop philosophizing and get to the good part.” She wiggles an eyebrow suggestively, letting her legs fall open on the bed. She’s turned on, after all that wrestling, with this dream of sweaty Ben in her room. Ben’s eyes twitch down of their own accord, registering the large bruise on her hip, the brown curls, a peek of something pink and moist beneath. 

“I…you might not…oh, fuck,” Ben says with a strangled voice. “I swear to you, I’m not imaginary. I can…I can prove it.”

“I don’t want you to prove it, I want you to touch me,” Rey retorts. “This dream is annoying.” She passes one hand over her breast in a light caress, and reaches out to stroke his hair with the other hand. He feels so real; his hair is damp, but just as smooth as she remembers.

“Please, Rey, listen to me,” Ben pleads, managing to look her in the eye. He sits on the edge of his bunk, grabbing her hands, stilling them. “I have no idea why or how this is happening. But I want you to believe I am not your dream. I can prove it.”

“How?” she demands.

“I…” Ben pauses, racking his brain for something she should be able to find in his home. “Have you read any of my books while I was gone?”

“One or two,” Rey nods. “Asimov novels.”

“Ok,” Ben responds. “So a book you haven’t read, so you can’t credit it to your subconscious…ok, I have a couple books by Umberto Eco. There’s a skinny one, _Six Walks in the Fictional Woods_. There’s a chapter in there about artificial intelligence. I marked it all up in crazy green and purple pen when I read it.”

“That’s a really weird thing for my dream to be telling me,” Rey mutters, twisting her wrists out of his grasp. “And I’ll never remember when I wake up.”

“Do you have paper and a pen?” Ben demands. Rey turns and shuffles things somewhere he can’t really see, but turns back to him in a moment brandishing the pen and a receipt. He grabs them roughly, looking at the receipt. It’s from that bookstore with the dodgy name near his grandma’s cafe, and dated January 2015. He rips off the part with the date and shoves it into the pocket of his cargo pants. Then he begins scribbling notes on the remainder. 

“I’m going to tell you how to log into my computer,” he looks her in the eye. “No way you could dream that. And it will be right here in my handwriting.” He notes down the password, which drawer in his desk has the file labeled “Dentist bills” with the two factor authentication dongle taped inside. He hands her the receipt. “Put it in the book you’re reading so you’ll find it when you wake up, Rey. Don’t steal my corporate secrets. Just…know I’m really here. Somehow.”

He stands, backing away. She’s about to protest, to exclaim how dumb and frustrating this is, to demand he come back to her side and at least cuddle her through the night again. But he flickers out of existence and she’s left holding a scrap of paper, a receipt she got just last week, with his writing all over it. She sighs and tucks it into the novel that’s conveniently at her bedside. She flicks off the light and dreamless sleep claims her again.

* * *

_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 2, Day 3 (5.6.2.3 ABY)_  
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

Ben slides down the wall to the floor, breathless. How is this even possible? The dreams he’s been having, maybe they aren’t dreams? If his interpretation of the crumpled letter from his grandma’s room is correct, and Rey is in fact a native of the realm he now finds himself in — a powerful Force-sensitive at that — what’s to prevent them having some sort of a weird connection like the one his mother and uncle had that drove his mother to insanity?

He hopes Rey either takes it well or continues to believe he’s a figment of her imagination, rather than thinking she’s losing her mind or aiming for hard drugs to stop the visions.

For the moment, though, Ben feels an insatiable urge to _know what’s happening_ taking him over. He shoves his hand into his pocket, pulling out the crumpled scrap of receipt branded “January 5, 2015.” He’s got to figure this out. So he runs to his mother’s bunkroom, only to find it deserted. Maybe Luke could help? He’s never visited Luke’s room, which is on a different floor of the old temple, but he finds his way up there. 

He hammers at the door. There’s a swoosh, and the door opens, revealing a quizzical Luke seated at a small table. He has one of the old Jedi texts open. Luke is cluttered; apparently the life of a moisture farmer hadn’t prepared Luke for the experience of having, sorting, and caring for possessions. There’s a stack of ancient leather-bound texts at the foot of the bunk bed. Dirty exercise clothes are piled up in another corner, with a pyramidal shape sticking up from them, glowing impatiently. It must be the Sith artifact they found at the tiny temple on the practice course, Ben realizes, feeling its cold presence in the Force. 

“Luke, we need to talk,” Ben rushes. “When you used to connect with my mother in those visions, growing up — did you ever pass any objects to one another?”

Luke tilts his head to the side, thinking. “No,” he says slowly. “I don’t know if that would even be possible. Why do you ask?”

Just then there’s another tap at the door and Leia walks in, carrying a pot of herbal tea. “What brings you up here, Ben?” she asks.

“Ah, it’s a good thing you’re here, actually,” Ben responds, opening his fist to reveal the crumpled paper. He hands it to his mother. “I need help explaining this, but since Luke doesn’t read Earth scripts he probably wouldn’t understand why it needs explanation.”

Leia takes the scrap and looks at it carefully, turning it back and forth in her hands. “Shelf Pleasure, Davis Square, blah blah blah. What’s the big deal? It’s part of a receipt from Earth.”

“Look at the date,” Ben suggests.

Leia does. “January 5, 2015.” She frowns. “That’s, like, now?”

Ben shakes his head, showing her his watch. “It’s the wee hours of the 13th now, but yeah, close enough. I’ve never gone to that shop, though it’s near Nonna’s house. And I certainly haven’t gone there since we left the planet in November 2014.”

“Well, maybe they had the year wrong in their point-of-sale computer. Why does it matter? You don’t even shop there, so how did you end up with this receipt?” Leia asks.

“I was meditating in my room, and Rey appeared — you know that girl who rents from Padmé? She appeared in my room. I had her give me some paper and a pen so I could write something and prove she wasn’t dreaming that she saw me. I kept part of the paper. She disappeared.”

“You’re saying you had a vision of someone you knew on Earth?” Luke looks disbelieving. Ben nods. “Hmm,” Luke continues. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense. I mean, Leia and I had that unusual bond because we are twins. Unless it’s possible this Rey is your sister?”

Leia snorts. “I think I would know if I had twins. This guy was big enough as it is…” She trails off and her face darkens. “That fucker. If Han had a secret daughter while we were together, I swear to God I will transport back to Earth as soon as I possibly can and kick his fucking ass.”

Ben blanches for a moment at the thought of lovely naked Rey possibly being his sister, then shakes his head violently. “No, no, Mom. I don’t think you can blame Han for this one. I think there’s reason to believe she actually was born in this realm. Ieldraan.”

“Wait, what?” Luke jumps from his chair. “That can’t be possible. Obi-Wan said that Padmé, Leia, and Master Windu were the only people from here on Midgard. Well, I guess not Padmé, really, so just Leia and Mace.”

Ben’s about to try to explain about the letter when an alarm goes off. “ _All personnel please report to Hangar A,_ ” blares the public address system. “ _Hostile ship detected, will be in range in ten minutes._ ” 

Luke puts down his book and quickly starts pulling his flight jumpsuit over his clothes. “This base may have only one working X-wing at the moment, but if so, it better be me flying it.” In moments he’s dressed, grabs his flight helmet and runs for the exit.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange series of events has different parts of Ben's life back on Earth set up for a collision course. Meanwhile, Luke thinks his trainee Jedi are ready for a big step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The dyad: a power like life itself." (Whatever that means...)

_London, England. 13th January 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

A gentle knock on the door interrupts Han as he taps a blue pen on the legal pad in front of him. He has been gathering his thoughts for his letter to the investors that gets published in the annual report. “Yes, Miss Sharest? Come in,” he calls, without looking up.

The door clicks open and shut and there is a sound of light throat clearing. “Mr. Solo, sir?” the voice, which is decidedly not Miss Sharest’s, inquires. He looks up. It’s his in-house counsel, Enfys Nest. He frowns.

“Sir, there’s a situation at the Rathtar fields. I’m here in my capacity as lead of the crisis management team to brief you,” she explains before he can even ask the question. She hands him a file folder filled with aerial surveillance photos, internal reporting graphs and charts, and email printouts.

“Azeri labor organizers are agitating in the area and the demonstrations have shut down production for several days,” she tells him. “At least, that’s the official story. There are suggestions that Putin is paying some faction to shut down the factory to discredit both the Azerbaijani workers and Solo Group.” 

Han frowns. “Thank you, Miss Nest. Any chance we can keep this knowledge away from Tobias Beckett?”

Enfys shakes her head. “No such luck, Mr. Solo. He apprised the rest of the board of the situation before I could even finish assembling the initial report this morning. Wish I knew where he gets his information. Now, how do you wish to proceed?”

Han steeples his fingers, leaning back in his large leather ergonomic chair thoughtfully. “You know the security force we employ in case of a hostage situation at an airport?” His solicitor nods, her red-ochre natural curls bouncing energetically over the shoulders of her strictly tailored dark grey pantsuit. “Have them on standby. And remember our run-in with 5010 Group? They might be able to dig up some answers, or at least give the Russians some hell.”

The lawyer smiles, eyes glinting. “Yes, a bit of intelligence gathering would not be out of order, and the Finns in your son’s organization have quite a reputation for Russian-targeted operations. I’ll send Miss Sharest in to help you contact them. If your son is willing to take a job from you, that is,” she gives him a pointed look as she steps out the door.

Han shakes his head. If hiring 5010 Group helps him figure out where his son is, so much the better. But what, exactly, is going on in the Caspian? 

* * *

_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 2, Day 3 (5.6.2.3 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

After Luke runs off to find an X-wing, Ben goes too. His plan: gather some weapons and help the maintenance workers defend the hangar. Leia finds herself alone in the base. Closing her eyes, she reaches out in the Force. Yes, she can feel the hostile ship approaching. There’s just one; she has high hopes for Luke mounting an adequate defense. She hurries to her own room where she locates a blaster pistol and an armored vest, then makes her way outside.

The dogfight is over in minutes, but it fills Leia with concern. Wasn’t the TIE supposed to be a short range fighter? Why are their enemies coming at them one at a time, as if on a suicide mission? If the goal is to spread fear, it’s got the wrong family, but if havoc is the goal it may be succeeding.

When Luke lands his sister hurries to embrace him. “Good flying up there,” she says, smiling.

Luke cracks a bashful smile, but it dissipates quickly. “The imperial remnants will know we’re here, now. I want to push up the timeline on our expedition.” Leia wants to hear more, but just then Ben traipses in with the base staff. It’s time for a full debrief on what happened; they need to report to Mon Mothma that perhaps Base One requires some defenses.

Talking about Ben’s vision of Rey and his belief that she is from Ieldraan is entirely forgotten.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. January 13, 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey wakes to her usual alarm and stretches, feeling unusually refreshed. What a strange dream that had been, she thinks as the recollection filters back to her. She flicks on the bedside lamp and sits up, fumbling for the ties of her robe to belt it around her. Looking down, she notices that the bruises on her shins and her hip are unusually faded—almost entirely gone. She pulls one shoulder of the robe down, noting that the fingerprints from her biceps are gone too.

Wow, she thinks, _I guess arnica works better than I remembered_. Reaching for her phone, she sees the novel on her bedside table and remembers snatches of the odd conversation with dream Ben. She seems to recall him recommending she read Umberto Eco? Which, honestly, she probably should; every time she mentions her love for Conan Doyle or Borges, someone brings up _The Name of the Rose_. Maybe Ben has a copy. But after that part of the dream, there was the weird part with Ben writing stuff on a receipt. She reaches for the book she was reading the night before with a trembling hand. It’s a dogeared copy of Dorothy Dunnett’s _Niccolò Rising_ , which probably explains why she fell asleep horny and dreamed Ben in her room. But picking it up to look inside feels momentous. What if there’s actually a scrap of paper inside with Ben’s handwriting on it?

No point avoiding the obvious, she thinks. There will be nothing inside except her usual bookmark. So she picks up the book and lets it fall open.

There…there _is_ something inside, after all. A receipt with two books listed on it, used texts she picked up at Poe’s shop just last week for her Engineering Ethics seminar. She turns the scrap over, and finds it covered in closely written script. Ben’s writing.

Rey’s heart is beating faster now. This is hard to explain, unless Ben has snuck back somehow and was lurking in her—ok, his—room, looking at her naked body, writing weird messages. But then where did he go? Why does her brain insist that he disappeared, like a dream? Could she have somehow sleep-written in his handwriting?

Well, she thinks, her subconscious is unlikely to have figured out how _actually_ to log into the computer of a security researcher. So if the directions work, it must actually have been Ben in the room. Why he would behave so mysteriously is beyond her.

So she belts her robe, pockets her phone, and pulls up her hair into a messy ponytail before taking the torn receipt and shuffling into the next room. She sits down in his large desk chair and powers on the machine, then opens a file drawer and flips through until she finds the file labeled “Dentist Bills.” Just as the note says, there’s a dongle taped inside, displaying a two-factor authentication code.

She carefully taps in the nonsensical series of letters and numbers he uses as a password, adds the two-factor code, and the desktop appears, scattered with shortcuts and folders that mean nothing to her. If he needed her to log on to this machine for a reason, it’s beyond her. But from what she remembers of the dream, he wanted her to log on so that she would believe he was really present. Why would that matter? Why would he want to appear to be on a trip, but have her believe he’s here?

Rey is really confused. She shakes her head as she steps away from the computer to get ready for her day. Maybe she’ll try to talk to Finn about what happened. If Ben hadn’t wanted her to mention it to anyone, he would have said it was a secret, right?

* * *

  
_Södermalm, Stockholm, Sweden. 13th January 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Aino Suotamo’s fingers fly across the keyboard of her laptop. She’s ensconced in a comfortable armchair in her favorite cafe, summarizing the results of the final round of pen-testing she and Tai just finished for Santander Bank. Kylo is usually responsible for communicating the final reports of their engagements to the clients, but it has been fun taking over responsibility for some additional parts of the business while he’s been away on whatever this sabbatical of his is.

Her phone lights up with an SMS notification. It's Tai. _Can we talk? Business._ Aino sighs, saves her document and begins to pack everything into her messenger bag. _Not secure here. I will let you know when Im home_ , she replies.

Less than ten minutes later she finishes scaling the five-story cement staircase that leads to her loft apartment. She fills a glass with water and dials Tai on an encrypted line.

“Voe,” he answers, sounding relieved. “Two very odd things happen already today, that require your advice.” She can almost envision him sitting tensely on the edge of his postmodern sofa in his Berlin apartment, the afternoon sunlight shining through the tall windows on his shaved head.

“Go on,” she says, fidgeting with the fronds of one of her hanging plants.

“First, we have offer of a new job with a large multinational that owns a Caspian oil and gas exploration field. They need us to assess if Russians are behind some problems at the site.”

“What’s so strange about that? We have a great reputation in Finland. Everyone knows 5010 Group is best for Russian problems,” Aino responds.

“The strange thing is the offer is from Solo Group. Kylo’s father reached out to me himself.”

“Shit,” Aino breathes, her eyebrows arching up toward the ceiling. “How strange. Does he have a real problem or is this some sort of odd family feud thing where he is trying to mess with us?”

“I looked it up, it’s in the news. There really is problem at the gas fields Solo Group bought. I would not mind take on the job, not at all, but we have to think if Kylo will be ripshit when he comes back.”

“He did say we could take whatever jobs we like,” Aino points out. She takes a sip of water. “Well, we can decide after you tell me the other strange thing.”

“Yes,” says Tai. “This is awkward. So…I might have install some scripts for monitoring Kylo’s access.”

“Hmmm, does this mean you have probably installed some scripts to be monitoring me as well?”

She hears a long sigh at the other end of the line, but Tai doesn’t say anything.

“Well, I should have expected as much,” Aino laughs, only moderately bothered. “It is your specialty after all. I will get you back by stealing your Modigliani one of these days. But what happened today?”

“So, about fifteen minutes ago, right before I text you, there was new login to his computer. You don’t know is he back?” Tai asks.

“I’ve heard nothing,” Aino responds, looking out at her balcony and the rooftops across the street. “Is there some sign it is or isn’t him? Repeated attempts?”

“No, it was clean login, single attempt. But I haven’t heard anything either, so I worry it could be someone who has stolen his credentials,” Tai explains. “And I am thinking I will try to assess the situation more thoroughly.”

“You wonder if he would be ripshit that we take a job from his father, and you are thinking about hacking his computer some more?”

“Well, I hack it already earlier,” Tai says almost apologetically. “I am just judging if I should activate the webcam.”

“Holy Christ, Tai,” Aino laughs. “You are so fucked when he finds this out. Which he will, you know it.”

“Nah, he will treat it as good joke,” her fellow hacker answers. “I hope.”

“Well, why not then?” Aino shrugs.

“Ok, I will do, and tell you what I see,” Tai mutters. There are some tapping sounds, then a gasp. “Fuck, it’s not Kylo. It is his house, though. It’s a woman. Slim, brunette, young, civilian clothes. She just come back in the room, brushing her hair, she is shutting off the computer. Looks in a rush.”

“Well, either there is a hostile in his rooms or he came back from vacation, hasn’t checked into work yet, but he had a hookup and then logged her into his machine so she could, I don’t know, find the bus schedule?” Aino muses. “Not sure which of those is more unbelievable. He never really seemed like the sort to bring people home and let them mess about in his stuff.”

“No, you are right about that,” Tai answers. “But I don’t know what can we do. He still isn’t responding to me.”

“If you’ve hacked his machine, you could make it inoperable? So she can’t steal any more than she already has.”

“I like way you think, Voe,” he answers. “Maybe it will save you the trip to Boston to crash the party.”

“Ugh, that would be…not great,” Aino responds. “Ok, keep me up to date. And tell Kylo’s dad we will take the job. Might as well be well paid if Kylo is going to be pissed at us anyway.”

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 2, Day 4 (5.6.2.4 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

The next day dawns muggy as always, with a pale blue sky dotted with clouds. Ben returns from an early run and makes good use of the refresher. When he emerges, he finds Luke and Leia already ready for their mystery mission. The shuttle is stocked with a couple days’ worth of food and water, and they are each bringing a pressurized space suit. Ben raises an eyebrow, but something deep inside him warms at the prospect of finally achieving his childhood dream of becoming an astronaut. (A dream no parent of an American child born in 1986 supported, after _Challenger_ , so for once he can’t fault Han and Leia.)

Luke runs some final checks on the shuttle and soon they are cleared for departure. As they emerge from the moon’s atmosphere, Luke turns to Ben. “Remember when I had you meditating on our first trip here, exploring the area and then going farther out in the galaxy?”

Ben shrugs. “Somewhat.”

“Did you notice anything odd in the Yavin system?” Luke queries.

Ben nods, slowly. “There’s another moon with a lot of sparkles, like life forces, but I thought you said only Yavin IV supported life.”

Luke grins broadly. “Nice. You felt it too. Think you could fly us to that moon?” Luke is always eager to pass on the controls of the boring old shuttle.

Ben nods and takes the helm. “What do the sparkles mean? Why are we going there?”

Luke stares out the viewport. “Force sensitive beings have the biggest presence in the Force. But some objects are attuned to the Force too. Especially kyber crystals, like the one I have in my lightsaber.”

“So…you can collect kyber crystals on one of Yavin’s moons?” Leia asks from where she’s been sitting behind them, following the conversation.

“Not naturally. But I’ve been racking my brain for where we can get lightsabers for you guys, given that the kyber mines on Jedha were stripped to build the Death Star focusing crystal and Jedha itself was heavily damaged. Jedi traditionally went to Ilum but I haven’t been able in my research to figure out exactly where it is. But then I realized,” Luke takes a deep breath, “that when I destroyed the first Death Star, its focusing crystal must have been dispersed. And I think what you and I, Ben, have felt on that other moon is a significant grouping of kyber fragments from the destruction of the Death Star.”

“So we’re going to scavenge some crystal for sabers? Cool,” Ben says. He adjusts various controls so that the shuttle cruises at a moderate pace orbiting the gas giant Yavin. Reaching out into the Force while operating a vehicle is a new challenge. It’s deeply contrary to Ben’s instincts and training to take his attention away from the controls of the ship he’s piloting, but he soon realizes that he can maintain that awareness while simultaneously stretching out with his feelings into the Force. Soon, he’s pinpointed the moon with the sparkling Force signature. It’s not far off in its orbit, and he emerges from his trance to set the controls and direct their flight to the small satellite.

This other moon of Yavin — he doesn’t bother to ask Luke its name, because surely it’s named Yavin [some number] — is a rocky, dusty ball, much smaller than Yavin IV. In fact, Ben would be surprised if it’s as large as Earth’s moon. It’s basically a glorified asteroid stuck in orbit, pockmarked with craters and caverns and covered in a fine reddish dust. He sets down the shuttle carefully at the edge of the largest crater on the sunny side. Luke is monitoring a scanner.

“Doesn’t look like much kyber on the surface, actually,” the Jedi notes. “Very small fragments that will be a pain in the butt to collect. It’s hard to control your motions in a space suit with minimal gravity,” he explains. “I’m picking up much brighter readings in this cavern. It’s possible the explosion blasted a bunch of larger pieces of kyber directly into that pre-existing depression on the moon.”

“Makes sense,” Ben responds, powering the engines back up. “Let me take us inside.”

The gigantic cavern easily accommodates the ship, and they fly deep within the moon. The shuttle’s exterior lights bring up a sparkling trail of kyber fragments beneath them. Scattered stalactites and stalagmites occasionally reveal the motion of startled creatures.

“That’s interesting,” Luke comments. “There must be some sort of atmospheric gases trapped in this cave for those critters to exist. I’ll take some exterior readings, we might not need the full space suits after all while we gather the crystals.”

He taps some commands into the instruments and soon gets a read-out. There are, in fact, gases; while not highly poisonous, they are not breathable to humans. However, the pressure readings and temperature in the cave will be suitable. All they’ll need is oxygen masks.

Ben is reaching what looks to be the end of the cave system, so he halts the shuttle, turning it to face the entrance before setting it down. All three explorers equip themselves with oxygen masks. Before putting his on, Luke gives a few words of advice. “The old Jedi say in the books that their crystal would sing to them. So keep an ear out for unusual sounds.”

They open the airlock and traipse out of the shuttle. It’s fascinating, as they stand at the end of the ramp, to look around at the phosphorescent glowing underground world. Sparkling hues of green, yellow, pink, and blue surround them, interspersed with a few rarer colors like purple and orange. Leia grins inside her mask. It’s completely psychedelic, completely amazing. A natural high. She leads the way off the ramp, only to hold up after a few steps. The floor of the cave is squishy, not firm — a disconcerting sensation. But in a few moments she’s used to it, and she tries to stop focusing on the oddity of the environment to open herself up to the Force. Which crystal will sing to her?

Ben stops at the foot of the ramp and extends his awareness into the Force. Barely a minute passes before he hears a full, minor chord throbbing in his ears. He lets the music guide him to a small heap of crystal fragments. Two are blue, two yellow, but all four sing to him together in harmony. So he gathers the lot, placing them gently in his pockets. He turns to see what his mother and uncle are doing. Leia has her hand clasped over a large and beautiful blue crystal. She plucks it from its resting place, hugging it to her chest. Suddenly Luke’s head jerks up.

“What’s that?” he cries, indicating a large, white, batlike creature that has flown past and attached itself to the shuttle’s viewport. “Oh, kriff. Mynocks,” he moans, raising a blaster pistol to shoot it off the ship. In a burst of plasma and smoke, it’s detached and gone. Then four more mynocks flap by. “Ugh, get back on the ship, guys,” Luke mutters, taking potshots at the beasts. One shot misses its target and hits a wall of the cavern instead.

Moments later, there’s a foreboding creaking sound. Then, suddenly, Ben feels the tremors of an earthquake. “Fuck, let’s get out of here!” he yells through the oxygen mask. Gripping his mother firmly by the elbow, he struggles back to the ship across the drunkenly heaving floor of the cave. “We’re on board, gun it Luke!” he yells. His uncle complies, shooting back out toward the cavern opening. As the exit approaches, Ben notices it’s collapsing on itself. Or…it has teeth?!

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Leia mutters to no one in particular.

“You can say that again,” Luke affirms, piloting them out from between several rows of teeth just as the enormous mouth shuts.

“What the hell was that?” Ben exclaims.

“I think it was a space slug?” Luke says with a shrug. “Exogorth is the official name. I thought they were legendary but I guess they really exist. Guess we won’t be going back for any more crystals. You guys get one each at least?”

Ben and Leia nod, breathing a sigh of relief to have escaped from that ordeal in one piece. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Hopefully not more exogorths.

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 2, Day 5 (5.6.2.5 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

What tomorrow brings, as it turns out, is Jedi ritual. Luke gathers them in the meditation room, and dumps a jumbled collection of metallic tubes and wires onto the floor. “I’ve only done this once,” he admits. “Let’s see your crystals.”

Leia holds out her large blue crystal. It’s teardrop-shaped and nicely fills the palm of her hand. Luke nods. “Take a cloth and clean it up, might as well not leave any space slug residue inside the casing,” he advises. His sister grimaces.

Ben rummages in the pockets of his cargo pants and eventually draws out all four crystals. He lines them up on the floor in front of him. “They called to me together,” he shrugs. “How do I decide which one to put in a lightsaber?”

Luke frowns, tapping his dimpled chin. “Ask them?”

Ben restrains an eyeroll, then drops into a meditative posture. Eyes closed, he extends his hand over the line of crystals. Each of them is smaller than Leia’s crystal, and they begin to levitate from the floor, dancing with one another in a complicated pattern. Eventually, three of the crystals sink back to the floor. The fourth floats into Ben’s outstretched palm.

“Ooh, son, we match!” Leia laughs. He opens his eyes. She’s right, it’s a blue one.

“What do I do with the other three?” Ben asks.

Luke shrugs. “There must be some reason you got them. Maybe you’ll have three trainee Jedi someday and you won’t have to go on an expedition into the belly of the beast, as it were.”  
Ben packs away the other three stones in his pockets, where they hum warmly against his leg. Then he turns his attention to Luke, who guides his sister and nephew through an arcane process. 

  
Afterward, Ben wouldn’t be able to recount what happened, exactly. There was meditation with the crystal floating in front of him, then the assembly of the components it wanted for a hilt. Luke doled out some sort of components meant to shield and focus the power of the crystal. Then the whole thing had to be assembled telekinetically. It was like replacing a halogen bulb (no fingerprints on the glass!) but to the nth degree.

At some point, Ben shakes himself out of a daze, only to realize that he is holding a finished lightsaber. One small component of the hilt lies open. Luke tosses him a tiny screwdriver. He takes it with a nod of thanks and carefully fastens the last piece of the housing to the saber. It’s a hefty silver cylinder with parallel ridges demarcating both ends of the hilt.

He looks over at his mother. Leia looks drained, but she’s grinning broadly at an ornate hilt. Hers is more varied in its girth, heavily decorated with copper accents. She meets his eyes delightedly. “Shall we try them out?”

Luke heaves a deep breath. “Let’s take this outside. And remember, never point it at your face!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist stealing one of the greatest scenes from Empire. In this AU, Lando and Chewbacca did not have trouble with the Falcon's engines after Hoth, and traveled smoothly to Cloud City where Baron Administrator Lobot sold them out to Darth Vader as bait for Luke. Lando keeps the Falcon's engine and interior in fine working order and nobody owes Jabba anything. The result of this canon divergence is that there is still room for a hungry exogorth without repetition.
> 
> Also: grammatical errors in Tai's speech are intentional. I'm trying to reflect that he is fluent in Finnish and German, but his English is imperfect. Ok, ok, he would probably speak to Voe in Finnish, but I don't know any so we'll have to pretend. ;)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé is bored, Thor is hopeful, Rey is kicking butt, and our three Jedi encounter a new threat on Yavin IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to all the underloved Nien Nunb action figures. Any other young gen Xers have a favorite filler character action figure?

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 2, Day 5 (5.6.2.5 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Padmé leans back in her chaise longue on the veranda after a delightful lunch with Bail. He sits in another chair a few yards away, answering New Republic Senate missives on his datapad with a serious expression on his face. A kitchen droid is clearing away the serving dishes and utensils. 

The sky is clear, and a songbird is singing from one of the neighbors’ gardens. It’s the most peaceful Padmé has felt, maybe, in the months that she has been here in Hanna City. She closes her eyes and lets the rays of Chandrila’s sun warm her aging bones. She breathes deeply, a small smile quirking one side of her mouth.

Yeah. Peacefulness is not the thing for Padmé Naberrie Amidala, a.k.a. Dr. Jane Foster, a.k.a. Mathilda Lando. She opens her eyes and sits up straight. Bail glances over to her. “You look like you have an idea.”

She laughs lightly. “Do I ever. Bail, I feel rather useless. I want to help the Senate, but everyone's still leery because of Anakin, because of Darth Vader. And I'm still getting up to speed on the galactic situation. Until I can be really helpful, I need a hobby or something, at the very least.”

Bail looks thoughtful. “What are you thinking of? Hair braiding? Calligraphy? Speeder racing?”

Padmé shakes her head. “I was a good shot, if you recall. And Ben and I were practicing with, what do you call them here — slugthrowers? Before we came. Where does one practice target shooting around here?”

It’s Bail’s turn to laugh. “Chandrilans are a very peaceful people, Padmé. Shooting is not permitted within the city limits. But you’re right, there is a place where the other Diaspora folks and I like to go to practice. When would you like to start?”

“How about now?” Padmé grins. Bail meets her with an answering smile and stands, leaving his datapad on the table. 

“Sounds good to me. We may need your crack shot skills. I just heard from Mon Mothma,” he mentions.

“Really? What did she say?” Padmé asks, looking up at him as they pass into the house. She’s selected a fitted grey jumpsuit today with a slim cut jacket; much more practical for aiming a firearm than her usual draped ensembles.

Bail looks serious. “Luke commed her. Sounds like a single TIE popped up near Yavin and Luke took it out with the one X-wing they’ve got out there. He was asking for more backup, but she was reluctant to commit. I can see you looking like a concerned grandma, but don’t you worry, my dear Padmé. Your children and grandson are highly capable of protecting themselves.”

“I know that in my mind, but it’s hard to convince my heart,” Padmé admits. “How are the TIEs showing up in these random places, like the Hanna City gala attack? Luke said they don’t have hyperdrives. Are they using a hyperdrive ring like the old Jedi starfighters?”

Bail thinks for a moment. “I suppose all the TIEs are after your time, aren’t they. Well, a few models were developed with hyperdrives, like the Advanced and the Defender. But they would look different. I don’t honestly know what’s going on. Mon said that Luke thought it was reconnaissance, but that seems rather expensive when they could just use probe droids.”

By now they’ve collected what they need for their expedition and Bail guides Padmé out to his preferred speeder, placing a large case of weapons in the back. “It’s a short drive. Do you want to take a turn at the helm?”

After just a brief hesitation, Padmé nods. She takes a few minutes to remind herself of the controls, which seem somehow more complicated than what she remembers driving when she was a young senator on Naboo. But soon she activates the drive and steers them out to the route along the shore, Bail directing as she goes past the spaceport and on toward the forest. She laughs with delight as the wind whips by and the speed energizes her. Yes, she definitely needs a hobby.

Bail looks over at her appraisingly. “Breha always liked to drive, when she could. When circumstances permitted the queen to do so.” He frowns. “It’s been more than five years, but I miss her every day.”

“I’m sorry,” Padmé sighs, looking away from their direction of travel to glance at him just for a moment. “I don’t really know how to be a widow either.”

Bail grunts. “Your situation is very odd to say the least. Hey, he’s not here with us now, is he?” 

“Who, Anakin?” Padmé looks around to the back seat of the speeder for a moment. “No, not as far as I know. But I think he could be with me and indetectable, if he wanted to.”

Bail shakes his head. “Yeah, you were basically a widow on Earth for a couple decades, and then when he actually dies, he starts being around again. It must mess with your mind. Though I have profoundly little good to say about the man,” he pauses, swallowing hard. “He was there gripping my shoulder, forcing me to stay still while I watched Breha and my whole planet get atomized. I suppose if he hadn't, I would have ripped Tarkin limb from limb…” Bail trails off, massaging his temples with one large hand. “I have never understood you and Anakin, but now every time I see you talking to him, it reminds me a little more of who I don’t have anymore.”

“I’m so sorry, Bail. I know he almost killed me and the kids, and he did kill Obi-Wan and a bunch of Jedi kids, and he helped kill your wife and all your people, and he maimed Luke and Mace. I know that. I wish to God he hadn’t killed anyone. But I’ve killed people, and so have you, and Luke, and even my grandson Ben has killed people. We’re all still here, and I think the question is,” here she pauses to take a deep breath, comport herself, “the question is what do we do next? For whatever reason, the Force still gives Anakin power to exist in some way. So does he use that for good or for evil? Luke destroyed everyone on the Death Star, in a sense; does he go on and make the galaxy a safer place for their families, or does he do evil?”

Bail takes a moment before responding, showing Padmé where to turn off the main road onto a track between tall trees. After a few hundred meters they come out into a large field overlooking the city from a distance. Swaying grasses separate them from a small cabin, and Padmé can see the targets set up around two sides of the field. “Park it here,” Bail instructs.

They hop out and he begins unpacking and assembling a variety of pistols and rifles. He points out which targets are intended for which weapons. Padmé selects a Defender Sporting Blaster and takes aim, hitting the target six times in a row. Two shots graze the center. 

Bail nods appreciatively, his cloak whipping in the wind. “I’m not ignoring what you said. I think I need some time to digest it.” He looks over his shoulder, meeting her gaze. “I don’t want to resent you. You’re one of the best friends I’ve got left.”

There’s a tear glistening at the corner of Padmé’s eye as she pulls him down for a hug, but he wouldn’t dare mention it.

* * *

  
_Bifrost Bridge. In the Reign of Odin Allfather._   
_Asgard_

“Praise the Allfather!” Nick Fury exclaims jocularly as he materializes in front of Heimdall. “It feels good to be back.” 

“It’s good to see you again, Master Windu,” Heimdall intones deeply. “Thor is waiting to hear from you, of course.”

“Usual place?”

“No, actually,” Heimdall responds, savoring the look of surprise he gets in return. “He took a skiff out today. I’m sure you can find him.”

Nick nods sharply and salutes his friend before walking onward, onto the bridge. He extends his feelings into the Force, reveling in the richness and variety of Asgard’s Force-sensitive life. If what he had always heard was true, every single Asgardian was born Force-sensitive and, by virtue of their realm's unique qualities, unaging. All the noise of their Force signatures, though, does nothing to blunt the bright supernova that represents Thor Odinson. 

Of course, the joker is hovering his skiff under the middle of the bridge. “Hail, Fury!” he yells up. “Descend and accompany me in my skiff!”

“If you say so,” Fury responds, and jumps, using his control of the Force to slow his fall. He lands lightly in the skiff, cloak billowing around him. 

“What news from Midgard?” Thor asks formally while adjusting the rudder.

“I survived a whole month of SHIELD business, so that’s something,” Fury grumbles. “The newbie agents are actually pretty good. I might get to retire yet, we’ll see.” This provokes a hearty belly laugh from his conversation partner. “What?” he exclaims. “Anyway, I checked on that lead that Lor San Tekka died. It’s corroborated by evidence.”

“What was his life like, all those years?” Thor muses, thinking back with a pang of guilt to that day in April 1999. 

“He ran a martial arts studio, lived in poverty. I suppose that would come naturally to a hermit from the Jakku desert. He also had an adopted daughter, but she’s disappeared. So, not a bad life? Could have been better if America would fix its health care system,” Fury grumbles. He doesn’t see the look of surprise in Thor’s eyes when he mentions the daughter. 

Thor Odinson has a glimmer of hope. There may be redemption even for long past mistakes. But how does he find the girl?

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. January 22, 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey is back at the MMA studio for the third time, and she really is starting to feel like she’s getting her form back. Tonight the owner of the gym is watching the workout. She’s heard about him — quite a bit of what she’s heard is hard to believe. Paulo “São Guerreiro” da Silva is a former light heavyweight champion from Pará. Supposedly, in his youth he was involved in a fringe insurgency that claimed St. George told them to assassinate the governor in Belém. The revolution failed, but somehow most of the participants escaped capture, and later Guerreiro rose to fame as a jiujitsu athlete. 

Rey thinks that if there were evidence that Guerreiro was actually a revolutionary, he probably wouldn’t have been permitted to immigrate, but there’s plenty of evidence of his athletic successes. The walls of the gym are adorned with photos and trophies and belts. The man himself is still of imposing stature, but he no longer takes to the mats, hampered as he is by an oxygen tank, the souvenir of decades of heavy smoking.

When Rey submits two brown belts in a row, each seemingly twice her size, Guerreiro waves her over to his corner. “Young lady, what’s your name? You are new here.”

“I’m Rey Santé, Coach. My father was Lorne Sant’ Ecca, he had a judo dojo in Everett.”

“That explains why you are so talented,” Guerreiro smiles. Rey notes the signs of the retired prizefighter: the cauliflower ears, the lazy eye, the scars. There’s still a compelling intensity about him. “Keep fighting, but pay attention. Those two guys you beat today, they are not the quickest. Next time, I give you a bigger challenge.”

Compliments warm her insides, but they don’t protect from bruises. She has the usual set when she gets home. She eats, showers, slathers on the arnica — though for whatever reason, it hasn’t again worked as miraculously as it did after that first workout.

* * *

_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 3, Day 3 (5.6.3.3 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

They’re in the middle of another lightsaber workout when the next attack comes. “ _All personnel please report to Hangar A,_ ” blares the public address system. “ _Hostile ships detected, will be in range in twenty minutes_.” Luke and Leia exchange a glance and they all retract their saber blades. Luke clips his hilt to his belt. “I think we know how this goes,” he says resignedly, before sprinting off to grab his flight suit.

Ben wipes the sweat from his brow with the hem of his sleeveless black shirt. “Let’s get our gear, Mom, in case we need to help.” Leia nods wordlessly and they jog back toward the base. Ben is impressed that she’s jogging; a couple of months ago, she would have been too out of shape to try. Now she isn’t going to set any speed records, but she doesn’t look like she’s going to die, either.

They grab armored vests and blaster pistols. “I’m not ready to use my saber around other people,” Leia admits, zipping it into a large pocket on the vest. Ben clips his to his belt, figuring it might be useful for blaster defence or just straight-up intimidation. Apparently, there’s a lot of legend surrounding the Jedi that Luke is trying to tap into. A lot of beings in the galaxy aren’t even aware Jedi and lightsabers are real.

A few minutes later they’ve joined Captain Nien Nunb at the tactical command station at the hangar. Nunb is a jowly Sullustan with a flair for red flight suits and zero knowledge of Basic, so they use an automatic translator to communicate in the absence of a protocol droid. Leia is reminded of her plan to learn some more methods of non-Earth communication; the automatic translator definitely leaves something to be desired, changing Captain Nunb’s relaxed inflection into an intimidating mechanical monotone.

“ _There are three ships_ ,” he informs them. “ _Not Imperial capital ships. General Skywalker has mobilized to head them off if hostile, which we must assume they are. We will hear him on the comms_.”

After only a couple minutes’ wait, they do hear him on the comms. “I’ve got visual on the ships…don’t think they’ve seen me yet.” It appears on the tracker that Luke has hidden his ship behind one of the asteroid-like moons. “I’d say hostile based on the large armaments. Random assortment of ships…I’m guessing bounty hunters or gangsters. I’m going to try to take them out if they don’t give a good answer to your hail.”

Nunb nods, opening the atmospheric hailing frequency. “ _This is Base One to unidentified ships 1, 2, and 3. Identify yourselves_ ,” he speaks through the translator. A string of guttural growling comes in return. The translator starts on it when Luke cuts in. “That’s Huttese…turn off the translator. Nothing good. I’m going in.” Leia clicks off the incoming transmission from the attackers and they listen as Luke attempts to fight three heavily armed spacecraft on his own.

If it were any other pilot, this might be a suicide mission, but Luke twists and turns among the many moons of Yavin, the belt of debris from the Death Star explosion, and the gassy outer reaches of the planet with its unpredictable atmospheric eddies. He lands several direct hits on one engine of the first ship, and it crashes into a rocky moon. “Got one!” he exclaims, and Leia whoops in return.

There’s two ships left, and with a tricky loop maneuver Luke manages to position himself on the tail of one of them yet again. The ships split up, and suddenly make directly for the atmosphere of Yavin IV. Luke pulls up, realizing he doesn’t want to down a craft directly over the base. “Two are going to make it to the ground,” he alerts them over the comms. “I’m coming in, we’ll have to decide whether to stay and fight or evacuate in the shuttle.”

“Depends on how many hostiles are on each ship,” Ben mutters. “Here, let’s see where they land. We have a base and we’re more familiar with the terrain than they are. That’s a significant advantage in a jungle setting.”

Nunb looks up from the comms array. “ _I have notified the Senate of our situation. I also ran the ships’ transponder codes through all known databases. One of the ships is known to be affiliated with the Bounty Hunters’ Guild. The other was reported stolen from a trader on Alzoc III a couple standard months ago_.”

“So we don’t know who they are, but it’s a good chance they’re bounty hunters and/or thieves,” Leia concludes. Nunb nods without waiting for the translation. So he can _understand_ Basic, at least, she thinks.

“ _One has landed 500 meters due east of Base One. The other, the stolen shuttle, due west. The battle simulation engine predicts a pincer movement. Success depends on the size of their forces_ ,” Nunb’s translator drones.

“That’s what I just said,” Ben grunts. “I’m going to reconnoiter the bounty hunters. You stay here till Luke gets back, okay?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just pulls on a camouflage flak helmet and starts running north, burying himself in the foliage.

Leia frowns, frustrated to be left behind. “Fuck this. Luke can catch up with me,” she huffs, and grabs her own helmet.

“ _I came here for a peaceful posting_ ,” Nunb intones, “ _but I am not going to let you do this alone_.” He follows her south into the woods, blaster rifle held at the ready. Decades of tricky situations as a smuggler and a Rebellion pilot seep back into his muscle memory as he and Leia creep through the undergrowth to approach the stolen vessel.

By this time, Ben has run deep enough into the jungle to loop out and come around behind the bounty hunters’ ship. He pulls a pair of compact macrobinoculars from his armored vest and trains them on the clearing where the enemies are emerging from their ship. There appear to be four of them, unless some are remaining back on the ship. And apparently, bounty hunters are the same everywhere. The leader of the group has shoulder length grizzled hair and a rough beard that would not be out of place riding with the Hell’s Angels. He wears a long leather trench coat and well-used boots, and he’s yelling scornfully at the younger members of his crew.

****

Luke, meanwhile, has completed the landing sequence of his X-wing, only to find the hangar nearly deserted. The few remaining techs indicate which direction the others have gone. “Kriff,” he swears under his breath, stripping off the orange flight suit in haste and ransacking the hangar for protective gear.

****

Ben sneaks closer, closer to the east landing site. He’s hoping he can catch some snatches of what the head honcho is saying.

“We need Skywalker alive to get the big payout,” he hears, eventually. “All these other clowns can go down. You hear? Nobody kills Skywalker.”

“How do we know which one is Skywalker? All humans look alike,” groans a green-fleshed bounty hunter with a couple of giraffe-like protuberances sticking out of the top of his head.

“Well he’s young, everyone thinks he’s cute, and you can TELL BY THE KRIFFING LIGHTSABER, YOU INCOMPETENT RODIAN ARSEHOLE OF A SARLACC!”

“Sorry, Ran, yeah, I guess I should have thought of that,” the green guy says, cringing. 

Ben doesn't stop to assess whether this is the greatest or the stupidest idea he has ever had. He has the element of surprise, and these clowns are about to be _very_ surprised when a lightsaber shows up. In the moment, a broad smile crosses his face as he steps out from behind the foliage, drawing his lightsaber and his blaster simultaneously. 

He aims the blaster with his right hand, and one of the faceless cronies is down in seconds, probably never to rise again. A shocked roar emanates from the burly bearded human and three bounty hunters are firing at Ben. He uses the lightsaber in his left hand to block, a fighting technique that by now feels as natural to him as breathing. The green guy has a lucky shot, aimed directly at Ben’s face, that turns unlucky when Ben successfully diverts it back to its source. The bounty hunter cries out, falling to the ground with a smoking hole in the middle of his chest. Two down, two to go.

The big bounty hunter, Ran, has clearly survived a few fights, because he’s yelling to the other guy now to split up. Ran crashes off into the underbrush leaving his younger companion staring at Ben like a deer in the headlights (if the deer were wearing head-to-toe armor). Ben holsters his blaster in order to be able to swing his saber more effectively, and closes the gap between them to ten or fifteen yards before the guy breaks out of his trance and starts to run frantically around to the other side of the ship. It becomes a sort of crazed reenactment of the monkey and the weasel nursery rhyme, Ben thinks, as he chases the bounty hunter in circles, slashing with his saber at anything that gets in his way. 

Oh. That was the landing gear. The bounty hunters’ starship crunches violently to the jungle floor and Ben hears a cry of agony from the other side. He runs to the source of the sound, and finds the young bounty hunter scrambling up from the ground clutching his shoulder; the wing of the ship must have clipped him as it fell. 

****

Back at the hangar, Luke has decided to strike out west since his Force intuition tells him that’s where he’ll find his sister. His nephew is off to the east, an erratic partially-contained time bomb in the Force. Just then Luke hears someone charging through the forest just to the south. He slips stealthily into the undergrowth to follow the sounds. It’s a nefarious-looking man in a trench coat with a big beard. He must be a bounty hunter moving from one site to the other. Luke decides to shadow him, to allow the criminal’s reunion with his friends to divert attention from Luke’s own sounds. He pads quietly behind the clumsy, panting bounty hunter.

****

Meanwhile, at the bounty hunters’ damaged ship, Ben looks at the young armored henchman and then at the lightsaber pulsing in his hand. The crashing noises of the head bounty hunter dissipated minutes ago; he’s getting away. Only now does Ben remember that he can reach out into the Force and try to immobilize the injured bounty hunter who’s trying to get up and run away from him. It’s like suspending the blaster bolts, but more complicated and draining; he has to freeze the opposing fighter’s gross motor systems without stopping his breathing. Blaster bolts don’t have force of will, either.

As he opens himself up to the Force to fill himself with its power, he lets his guard down on the maternal bond. He’d kept it closed so Leia wouldn’t have to worry as he charged into danger. But now he is confronted by a massive pulse of fear and pain coming from her end. He gasps a breath in sudden anguish, closing down the bond again, and does the only thing he can do. One quick slash with the saber and a helmeted head rolls to the ground, leaving three dead bounty hunters surrounding the ship. He’s got to neutralize Ran and then go aid his mother.

Ben sprints west through the jungle. The other bounty hunter, the bearded man the others called Ran, seems to have gained too much of a lead on him and has disappeared. So Ben’s heading for the stolen ship landing site. Knowing his mother's luck, she probably decided staying at the hangar was boring and is now in some kind of a disastrous scrape. He stops at the hanger for a minute, grabbing a freshly charged blaster and a couple of thermal detonators. The X-wing is back but there’s no sign of Luke other than a trail of discarded orange garments. 

Leaving the hangar clearing, Ben tries to balance speed with stealth. As he runs, the sight of the third kill’s helmeted head rolling on the ground replays in the back of his mind. There’s a reason he took his honorable discharge from the special forces as soon as he was eligible and set up a corporate security consultancy instead. Though he was an incredibly skilled and versatile operative, his psychological makeup doesn’t really allow him to dissociate himself sufficiently from the violence he commits. It always comes back to him. 

Ben has killed this many people before, many times, but it’s never involved outright decapitation. It was a lot less bloody than he expected — not like the hostiles he’s taken out with a knife. Probably because the plasma blade cauterizes. He shakes the image out of his head and focuses on the clearing he can see in the distance.

Ben slips from behind one tree to the next reasonably quietly. He’s not silent but he doesn’t need to be, the gang in the clearing is making so much noise. He pulls out his macrobinoculars and surveys the situation. 

There’s a beat-up shuttle with its ramp open. At least five hostiles wandering around, but no sign of Ran. And his mother and Captain Nunb on their knees, two bounty hunters aiming blasters at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If all goes as planned (i.e. I don't get too wordy), Act II (of, I think, 4) is approaching its crisis and will wrap up next chapter.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head between Luke and Ben.

_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 3, Day 3 (5.6.3.3 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

The situation is not good. Ben focuses in on his mom. There’s blood on her cheek, like she took a blow to the face or was pistol whipped. Nunb looks no better; he’s cradling his blaster arm limply. The person who’s shouting at them looks to be a male Twi’lek, and a female Twi’lek and a battle droid, bristling with weapons, patrol the perimeter of the clearing. More figures can be seen milling around at the far end of the clearing, beyond the shuttle. Lastly, Ben sees two representatives of a species he hasn’t encountered previously, something with fur and horns, holding blaster pistols to the captives’ heads. They’re wearing body armor, so he’s going to have to aim carefully.

He sneaks a few trees closer to the clearing. Now he’s in range to hear what the Twi’lek is yelling at his defiantly silent mother. 

“Where’s Skywalker?” he’s saying. “You have the lightsaber, where is he?” Now Ben can see the Twi’lek is holding Leia’s saber hilt and waving it around. Just then, Ran crashes into the clearing from the south, panting heavily and leaning on his knees. There are bits of vines in his wild hair.

“There’s more,” Ran grunts. “More Jedi. Where’d you get that saber?”

The Twi’lek snarls at Ran. “Whaddya mean, more Jedi? This woman here had the saber. Won’t tell us where Skywalker is.”

“There’s a guy running around with another saber at the gunship killing my guys,” he pants. “Two sabers, means more Jedi.”

“So Skywalker attacked your ship and you ran away?” scoffs the female Twi’lek. At this point, everyone’s attention is on Ran. Except Leia’s. Ben can see her eyes widen as she spots him creeping closer to the clearing. He opens the bond and tries to send calming emotions her way for a moment before he begins his assault.

“Not Skywalker, _schutta_ ,” says Ran, exasperated. “Big dark-haired guy. So we have maybe three Jedi to contend with.”

“I knew this job was not sufficiently compensated!” intones the battle droid.

“Shut your face,” snarls the male Twi’lek, making a threatening gesture at the droid. 

Ben starts to creep around the north side of the clearing to reach the far side of the ship, farthest from where his mother is held captive. He hopes he can count on her and Nunb to not do anything stupid and get themselves killed for the next few minutes. The guards patrolling this far eastern side of the clearing are surly, bored-looking humans wearing a random assortment of gear and armor that looks worthy of a Mad Max movie. The man has leaned up against a tree, facing toward the shuttle. The woman is looking south toward where Ran entered the clearing, smoking something like a cigarillo — Ben recalls they call them deathsticks — and muttering about her share of the bounty. 

Ben remembers a trick Luke has used on him once or twice in combat when he was really tired and not mentally sharp. Sneaking up behind the tree where the man is, he reaches out in the Force to cause a noise off in the direction where the smoking woman is looking, keeping her attention fixed there. “Hey Gardt,” she murmurs quietly, gesturing over her shoulder for the man to follow her. “Did you hear that?”

Gardt steps forward, but never gets the chance to respond. Just as he steps away from the tree, Ben ignites his lightsaber directly through his heart from the back. He collapses, dying silently. Ben conceals himself behind the large tree again. He doesn’t want the woman to notice her dead partner and raise an alarm, so he’s going to need to rely on the Force. 

Force use requires a lot of concentration, but the practice he and Leia have been doing with Luke seems to be paying off. Ben feels the Force thrumming through him, connecting him to the people and the trees and the small creatures that live in the woods. It pulses wildly, leaving Ben feeling powerful but much less in balance now, with his mother’s life at stake and armed hostiles prowling around, than when he was just training amidst the relics of the long ago Jedi and Sith cultists who had peopled the woods.

The thrumming of the Force becomes a throbbing in his temples. Ben realizes that it’s nudging him. Something in the Force is showing him how to solve his problem. He lets it direct him, opens himself up, feels himself swiftly immobilizing the bounty hunter. He twists his left hand in the air and is only partially surprised when the bounty hunter’s head twists suddenly at an unnatural angle.

Ben lets out a deep breath and releases his hold over the second bounty hunter, letting her corpse sink to the ground where it will be partially hidden from the view of the other side of the clearing by a large rock. He shivers. Whatever that Force power was, he’s still buzzing with it, like too much coffee after an all-nighter, when you think you’ve solved the coding problems of the universe. He doesn’t have time to worry about whether he was really in control of it or how he’ll feel when this is over. He’s got to extract his mother, now.

So next he sets up a distraction. He sets the timer on a thermal detonator for three minutes. Then he levitates it using the Force. He floats it high up into the tree canopy. Once it’s some thirty meters up, where no one is looking, he floats it over the shuttle. Then he gently lets it down on the ship when the patrolling hostiles happen to be looking at Ran. He can just spot the flickering red light of the detonator nestling on top of the ship. Now, as long as they don’t load their prisoners in the next two and a half minutes, it’s all good. He stealthily creeps back around the north side of the clearing until he is just a few meters from the captives again. He's starting to be thankful for the thick undergrowth in this jungle, because no one but his mother has picked up any clue that he's right there.

Apparently, Leia has decided to try her luck with her infamous gift of gab. The Twi’lek guy must have been interrogating her about where she got her saber, and she’s giving him some sort of nonsensical tale about buying it from an old crone on Tatooine, embellishing the whole thing with a lot of details she must have picked out of Luke’s childhood stories. Ben can feel in the Force that she’s trying Force persuasion. Maybe she thinks that if she can influence the guy to buy her improbable story, she can next try a more obvious ploy like telling him to let her go. 

But she’s not going to get a chance to test her theory, because there’s a bomb about to go off. Plus, Ben notices that Luke is now concealed in the vines off to the south side of the ship, near to where Ran entered the clearing. Before he can try to signal to his uncle, Luke has burst into the clearing, brandishing a lightsaber.

“Shit, he’s gonna get them killed,” Ben thinks, raising his blaster on instinct, feeling the Force energize him again. His fear and anger surge as he takes two quick shots at the horned guys who are guarding Leia and Nunb. The first shot hits right between the eyes, and Leia’s guard slumps to the ground. The second guy gets a shot off as he falls. Ben runs forward, coursing out of the jungle with superhuman agility, only to see that that bounty hunter, too, is dead — he hit him in the neck — and his dying shot seems only to have grazed Captain Nunb’s flak vest. Thank God — or thank the Force?

It’s only a momentary thought, as Ben is running full speed into the clearing, screaming. He ignites his saber and launches himself at the battle droid, calculating that the droid may be the most lethal opponent. Luke seems to be effectively deflecting the attacks of Ran and the two Twi’leks. 

Just then a large explosion from the roof of the shuttle knocks everyone flat. The roof seems to have collapsed into the shuttle, minimizing the blast zone for metal fragments, but there's still an impressive concussion wave of heat and sound. Ben hits the ground in a roll, then quickly staggers to his feet, moving away from the inferno and catching up with the droid before it can regain its footing. He bisects it with a powerful vertical stroke and runs to help Luke. “Wait!” Luke yells. “Take them prisoner.”

Ben snarls, but checks over his shoulder and sees that Leia and Nunb are in no immediate danger, either from hostiles or from the burning ship. He swallows, holsters his blaster pistol, and reaches out with his right hand. Focusing on the male Twi’lek’s energy in the Force, he renders him unconscious. The fighter slumps to the ground, leaving Luke fending off just two opponents. A quick slash from Luke’s saber injures the female Twi’lek’s leg, and she too falls to the ground. Ran turns to run (again), but Ben freezes him through the Force, gritting his teeth and focusing on the currents of power that flow through him to tether the burly bounty hunter in place. This is the third person he’s immobilized today, and he feels his finesse growing with each one.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Ben shouts at Luke. “Put some binders on them.”

Leia rummages inside Ran’s capacious coat pockets, raising her hand triumphantly a moment later clutching several pairs of binders. She secures Ran first, then the two Twi’leks. Then she reclaims her lightsaber.

“I hope this guy isn’t dead,” Luke says stormily at Ben. “What did you do to him?”

“Knocked him out?” Ben shrugs, shaking out his shoulders now that he doesn’t need to be immobilizing Ran any more.

Luke feels for a pulse and finds the third prisoner is, in fact, alive. He shakes his head, huffing. “We better get some techs from the base out here with fire suppression and update Mon Mothma on the situation. Help me get these guys back to base and then we’ll clean up everybody’s injuries.”

“Hear, hear,” Leia responds, helping Nunb to his feet. Once he’s walking under his own power, she walks to Ben’s side. She pats him gently on the arm. “Thanks for coming to save us,” she says warmly. “I should have stayed at the hangar like you suggested. I’m not cut out for the infantry.”

Ben extends his arm around his mother in a side hug. “Glad we made it in time.” Sunlight filters down from the jungle canopy as they trudge back to the base. Only now, with the adrenaline and the Force subsiding, does Ben become aware of the oppressive humidity and the large biting insects. 

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. January 23, 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Finn exclaims into his phone at the back of the cafe. “No, no, I totally understand. You need to get away from that worthless sonofabitch.” There’s a pause. “Absolutely. Good luck, hon.”

He pockets the phone and walks over to stand beside Rey behind the bar. She passes a pair of cappuccinos to a customer. “Poe’s roof is leaking — again — and the landlord still won’t do shit about it. After the break-in last month, it’s just getting to be too much.” He shakes his head, fuming. 

Léon looks up from his notebook at the front table where he sits every Friday afternoon, as if to tsk at Finn’s swearing, but thinks better of it. He doesn’t want to embody the old man stereotypes that much. So instead he cracks a joke. “You need I should go give this landlord a talking to, ragazzo?”

Finn opens his mouth, then shuts it again, then snorts a laugh through his nose. “I don’t think he would listen to you, either, sorry man.”

Rey gives Finn a quick hug, then offers a suggestion. “If you guys are serious enough that you would be comfortable with it, why not have Poe come live with us? I can move the last of my things out of my old room, he can pay the same rent you do, and you will each have your own space if you want it.”

Finn’s face softens. “That’s a lovely idea, Rey. I’m a bit nervous to ask him to move in after just a couple months, but I mean, honestly he’s amazing. And your point about having our own spaces when we need them is a good one. I’ll ask him tonight. Obviously when Padmé comes back we might need to find our own place because I don’t know how Poe and I would feel sharing a floor with a grandma…”

“Yeah, but she shows no signs of coming back anytime soon,” Rey says sadly. “Having the run of the house definitely doesn’t make up for them being gone.”

“Yes, I wish too very much that Padmé would return. I feel it is my fault she is gone away,” Léon pipes up from his corner. Rey sends him a wry half-smile, but isn’t sure what he means.

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 3, Day 3 (5.6.3.3 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

Mon Mothma isn't responding to comms. Luke slaps at the button to turn off the holocomm unit. They'll have to figure out how to store the prisoners and defend the base from any further attacks on their own, at least for the moment.

Leia stands, looking at her young brother. “I sense you’re upset. Here, let’s settle the duty rosters for guarding the prisoners overnight. You and Ben shouldn’t pilot us back to Chandrila tonight after what we all went through today.”

Luke shakes his head, frowning. “We can handle logistics later. Ben and I need to have a talk. What I felt from him today…” Luke shakes his head. “I haven’t felt a dark Force energy like that since Vader.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Leia interrupts. “I don’t like where this is going. Why not sleep on it and you boys can hash it out in the morning? Even better, reach out to our father if you think he has something to do with this. You certainly seem to get along well enough with him now, and maybe he could help the two of you avoid doing something rash.”

Luke looks at her like she’s grown two heads. “Anakin does what he wants. If he’s going to get involved I’m sure he’ll show up. I don’t want to leave this conversation any longer.” He clips his saber to his belt and heads out the door purposefully. Leia follows at a distance, shaking her head.

Ben is easy to find, as it turns out. He’s freshly washed and dressed in a new combo of olive Alderaanian trousers and black American athletic shirt, standing outside the door to the cell where they’ve confined the three bounty hunters. His eyes are closed, his hand outstretched, pressed to the door. The Force swirls around him.

“What are you doing?” Luke demands peremptorily. Ben’s eyes flick open and he steps away from the door. 

“I'm trying to gain information about our attackers. Who sent them, if more would be coming, that sort of thing.”

“By listening to their conversation or…” Luke asks.

“By inspecting their minds,” Ben replies evenly. “We need this information, or we can’t be sure we can be safe on this moon even overnight.”

Luke frowns. “You can’t just go invading people’s minds!” he exclaims. “It’s the way of the dark side. That’s what I came to talk to you about,” he continues.

“What do you even mean? My mom does the same thing to Bail's dinner guests, for Christ's sake,” Ben points out incredulously. “They probably don’t even feel that I am in their heads. It’s not like I’m getting my jollies ripping their minds apart with the Force.” It’s decidedly less evil, he thinks, than some of the interrogation methods he had to employ back on Earth. 

“The dark side isn’t just about enjoying hurting people,” Luke responds. “If that’s all it was it would be easier for Jedi to avoid. No. It’s about emotions and passion, things like the fear you are feeling right now that more attackers might come, or the anger you feel that your mother got captured. The self-loathing we both feel for not having prevented that. You have to let go of those feelings, Ben, not let them power you!”

Ben shakes his head. “No, I refuse to believe all emotions are evil. And what I’m feeling or not feeling shouldn’t make the tactical decisions. In war, I think the ends generally justify the means. We’re alive. It worked. Let’s move on.” He leans back against the wall.

Luke looks decidedly frustrated. “The ends can never justify the means. If you believe that you’d believe the propaganda Palpatine used to try to sell us about law and order in the galaxy. Jedi need to do things the right way. Doing otherwise amplifies the supply of evil in the universe. You can’t feed on the angry energy of killing people, even if they’re bounty hunters who are trying to kill your mom.”

“The hell I can’t,” Ben growls. “How do you feel when you down a starship, flyboy? Are you whooping it up because you scored a direct hit? Chances are you killed as many people today as I did. Don’t insult my fucking intelligence by pretending that lives are less meaningful if they die in a plane than if they die on the ground.”

“What are you even kriffing talking about?” Luke’s voice raises in pitch. “Do you know how many friends — pilots — I have lost fighting the Empire?” He runs a hand through his thatch of blond hair. “No, no you don’t. You don’t know. You just come here and you think you know how things work. Well let me tell you something, sonny,” and Luke has stepped up to Ben and is poking him in the chest, “things work kriffing differently here. Evil is real, and it’s powerful, and our family is susceptible to it. You need to always be vigilant.”

Leia doens’t think she’s ever seen her brother gesticulate this furiously. She’s not optimistic about this conversation ending without anyone having a black eye. She tries to nudge Ben through the maternal bond, but he’s keeping it shut tight. She can easily tell how he’s feeling — his jaw clenching repeatedly, he looms over his young uncle — but it would be nice to be able to telegraph some chill vibes his direction.

“I’m vigilant about things that fucking matter, Luke,” Ben growls down at the other man, pushing off the wall and looming toward him. “Seems to me like the dark side you’re so worried about would just love it that we are at each other’s throats instead of, like, maybe asking grandpa Anakin for advice. Seems like working together to hunt down Palpatine’s descendants and fucking end them would be a better use of our time than getting up in each other’s business.”

“Is that the only solution you can come up with, Ben?” Luke shakes his head, telegraphing his dissatisfaction. “Go vigilante on some people? It’s not going to work, Ben,” he sounds almost pleading, now. “If we go off to hunt down and kill Palpatine’s son, if he even is alive anymore, we are distracted from the main missions of restoring the Jedi order, bringing balance to the Force, protecting the New Republic…” He trails off, because clearly Ben isn’t listening.

Leia finally raises her voice. “Can we deal with this bullshit in the morning, boys? Because you have both had a hard and stressful day and I know we all have shifts to watch the prisoners. So maybe deescalate for now?”

Ben stares at her and gives a sullen nod, before turning on his heel and disappearing.

“So I’m not going to bother saying I told you so,” Leia comments to her brother, “but it probably would have been better not to have that conversation. Now can we set the duty rosters?”

Luke frowns, desperately wanting to throw something. But there’s nothing to throw, here outside the prisoners’ cell. “Fine,” he bites off. “I’ll take first shift? You got a datapad, we can note everything down?”

Leia nods. She came prepared.

***************

Up in his room Ben is fuming. They should be recapitulating how things went, planning against future incursions, improving their battle plans, not fucking trying to one-up one another. Ben removes one of his boots and hurls it against the wall before he remembers something Padmé had told him.

She told him to take a fucking vacation.

Instantly Ben is rummaging in his rucksack, and it doesn’t take long for him to find it: the chip that his grandmother assured him was basically an infinite credit account if he needed to get the fuck away from Luke and disappear where no one would find him.

Nonna is a genius. But Ben is going to ensure that his vacation also puts a metaphorical boot in Luke's ass.

He quickly packs everything that matters to him into the rucksack. Laptop, datapad, chargers, athletic wear, shoes, stupid mask. There’s plenty room left over, which is important, he thinks as he ties his boot back on.

Next stop: Luke’s room. It’s locked, but hacking the lock is the work of a minute when you have the Force, as it turns out. The door hisses open and Ben steps in. He takes the pile of Jedi texts and shoves them in his rucksack. The little pyramidal Sith artifact looks at him accusingly from Luke’s laundry heap. He’s still reluctant to touch anything from that damn temple — despite not passing out after today’s Force exertions, he’s not sure what will cause him to black out. So he reaches out in the Force to levitate the little relic into his rucksack, then cinches it closed.

Whatever secrets the Jedi and Sith held, Ben has them now, not Luke. Shithead wasn't using them anyway. Maybe they’ll help Ben hunt down Porro Palpatine, or maybe they’ll just help him develop his powers so he can put his uncle in his place when he comes back.

Next step is to get off the planet. There are five ships but only two legitimate choices: Ben himself is responsible for fact that the two ships the bounty hunters arrived in are no longer capable of flight, and there’s a shuttle in the hangar that Nunb has been doing some serious work on with the tech crew. That leaves the X-wing and the shuttle they arrived in from Chandrila. 

It’s a dilemma: flying an X-wing would be fun, but also cramped. It'll broadcast his association with the New Republic before he even lands anywhere, unlike the civilian shuttle. Meanwhile, taking the shuttle sends a big F-U to Luke by leaving him stranded until Nunb can get the other shuttle fixed, but at the same time inconveniences his mom, who’s also stuck on this planet with the captive bounty hunters. But you know what? Between her, Luke and Nien Nunb, Ben’s pretty sure they have nothing to worry about from the bounty hunters. F-U it is.

Reaching out in the Force he can tell that Luke and Leia are still talking near the confinement cells, and all other personnel are resting in their rooms. Nobody is manning the hangar at the moment. Ben doesn’t waste any time. In a few minutes he’s crossed the base to the hangar. He looks around to see if there's anything he might need, settling on an armored vest, a couple of standard-issue blaster pistols, and Nien Nunb's automatic translator unit. "Sorry, dude," he mutters to the empty hangar -- he's going to need interpretation much more than Luke's gang will. He stows his gear in the shuttle, pulling out the datapad to figure out where to go. He settles in the pilot seat and runs the preflight checks, warming up the engines.

Ben takes a deep breath. It’s the moment of truth, heading off into the unknown in a different galaxy, far, far away. He lets out his breath, feeling more at peace in the Force. Padmé believes he can do this, he assures himself. He can make it on his own. He powers up the engine and takes off, lifting above the trees and swiftly accelerating out of the atmosphere. He checks some coordinates in the datapad. “All right, Artoo,” he mutters to himself. “Let’s see what you got for me here. Places to get lost near the Gordian Reach, here we come.”

***************

Back on Yavin IV Leia hears the sounds of the engine, of the starship taking off, and a horrible feeling settles itself in the pit of her stomach. “Oh no,” she cries out, abandoning Luke and the logistics to rush out of the base and look up at the sky at the receding silhouette that is her son — and their only way off the moon. “Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck shit fuck!” she yells. “Luke Skywalker, get your ass out here!”

Luke runs out of the base when he feels the disturbance in the Force that’s swirling around his twin. “Oh,” he says, seeing the empty space where their shuttle used to be in the hangar. “Kriff.”

“My son just wandered off into a strange galaxy because you were being a shit to him, and that’s all you can say?” Leia yells at him. “I’ve had enough. You figure out how we’re going to get these prisoners out of here. I’m going to sleep.” Though of course she will be able to do nothing of the sort, Leia Naberrie Solo knows the value of a dramatic exit. She storms off to the base.

Luke sighs. Nothing, but nothing, is going his way today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's that for Act II. Ben is off on his own adventure. I apologize in advance that when he travels a road his mom can't follow, it's going to be paved in angst. I will try to be prompt on posting the next chapter but I have to make sure my Act III calendar is in order since it has some time skips. (Yes, I seriously have an entire Google Calendar set up with the galactic standard dates corresponding to 2015-2020 and various events plotted out.)


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben will do whatever it takes to get the hell away from Luke. Leia's pissed at Luke too. Meanwhile, on Earth, Han is wondering who's out to get him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a) the fact this is so late coming -- I kept delaying b/c I wanted to redesign the mood board for Act III, but I'll just do that when the feeling strikes I guess and stop delaying; and b) the decided lack of Rey in this chapter. There's a long Rey scene in the next chapter, but this chapter was too long when I had it in here.

_The Hydian Way, en route to the Corporate Sector. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 3, Day 3 (5.6.3.3 ABY)_   
_Hyperspace/Ieldraan_

Ben furrows his brow, trying to decipher the list of planets Artoo suggested for him. A casino? What the fuck? Gambling hasn’t ever really appealed. He supposes he can use the bustle of the planet as camouflage while he acquires a new ship and a new identity. All the better to get lost with.

For now, he’s unbelievably tired. He triple-checks the coordinates and ensures the alarm will notify him when it’s time to drop out of hyperspace, then retires to a bunk to snag a nap.

A small form curls around him in the middle of the night, separated by many galaxies yet together through the mysteries of the Force. Both of them are too tired to notice. There will just be an inexplicable feeling of refreshment when they wake.

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 3, Day 4 (5.6.3.4 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

“I’m sorry you couldn’t reach Mon,” the flickering blue hologram of Bail tells Luke when he finally reaches someone on Chandrila. Here on Yavin IV, it’s the wee hours of the morning. Ben has been gone for a while. Leia still isn’t responding when he hammers on her door or prods at their twin bond. Nien Nunb showed up at the hangar half an hour ago, ready to stand his guard duty despite his injured arm. His translator box is missing, along with some other supplies from the hangar.

“We have a bit of a confrontation brewing with the Imperial remnants — couple of star destroyers popped up in the Outer Rim. Mon is handling that situation. Now, what can I do for you?” Bail looks unflappable as always. The man must have a heart of beskar to have played a double role under the nose of the Empire for decades.

Luke heaves a breath. “We had a bit of a situation here ourselves. Captain Nunb commed the chancellor back when it started. Basically we were attacked by three shiploads of bounty hunters.”  
Nunb cuts in. Luke understands his gist at this point — maybe the Force helps with language acquisition, or maybe they’ve just spent enough time together. Ben stealing the automatic translator was a dick move on top of all his other dick moves, but it’s not really going to impede them. Luke translates the Sullustan’s comment for Bail. “Captain Nunb says he heard they were trying to collect a bounty on me. Supposed to bring me in alive.”

“So the good news is we didn’t lose any people on our side,” Luke continues. “Leia and Nien incurred injuries, but we have plenty of bacta. The challenge is that we took three prisoners — a bounty hunter named Ran and his two Twi’lek associates — and we don’t really have the personnel and facilities for long term confinement. Bringing them back on the shuttle was going to be a pain, but Ben and I argued and then he stole the shuttle and left. Ben set one of the bounty hunters’ ships on fire in our battle, and it looks like he also damaged the landing gear and wing on the other. And Nunb has been trying to fix the hyperdrive on the shuttle the techs had here at Base One. So we basically have no transportation options. I was hoping Mon could send someone to pick us up.”

“That’s unlikely for a few days in the circumstances. I’m sorry, Luke,” Bail responds. 

“Ah well, we’ll do what we can. Give our love to my mother,” Luke says.

“May the Force be with you,” Bail replies solemnly as the hologram flickers out.

Luke steels himself for a call that’s more emotionally intense than he really wants to deal with tonight. It’s time to call Lando.

* * *

  
_Wasteland Fortress. Interregnum after the death of Laufey._   
_Jotunheim_

He really doesn’t like looking like this at all. The form is so uncouth, so ugly, despite the golden raiment and the obeisance of the cultists. He supposes it’s his own fault, choosing this form. The cultists are so depraved, they are more fervent in their dedication to an old man with a face like rotten cheese than they would be to someone more young, whole and hale. At least he isn’t in the form of a Hutt.

Ah well. It’s not to be helped. All things must be endured in the search for revenge and a realm to call his own. They bring him their latest preposterous plans for reanimation and cloning. He reviews the plans carefully, ensuring they are impossible before approving the resources to be wasted on them. “Yes, yes,” he hisses in a rheumatic voice. “We will restore his excellency. You will attain your destiny.”

And they will attain their destinies. He’s foreseen it. Their destinies call for them to be erased into nothingness. It will be what the Midgarders call a “laugh riot.”

Now, though, he must meditate on the energies he feels moving in the realms. There are new powers afoot. He must plan accordingly and marshal alliances wisely.

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 3, Day 4 (5.6.3.4 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

“Luke Skywalker! What a pleasure,” Lando says with a suave smile. His hologram is impeccably attired, as ever, in a new brocade cape and the pointiest of pointy boots.

“Lando,” Luke sighs, “I have to cut to the chase. I need your help. And Chewie’s,” he adds when the affable Wookiee pops his head into the feed with a friendly yowl.

“What happened, man? Are you and your sister okay?” Lando furrows his brow.

“We were attacked by bounty hunters, and we won — took three of them prisoner — but my nephew and I had a fight and he ran off with the only functioning shuttle. So we’re stuck with prisoners and we don’t know when other bounty hunters may show up to finish the job,” Luke explains.

“Damn,” Lando responds in his mellifluous voice. “We’ll be there soon as we can. I can promise two days but I’ll aim for quicker.”

“Thanks, Lando. And may the Force be with you,” Luke says earnestly as they sign off.

* * *

  
_By the Sea of Cantonica. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 3, Day 4 (5.6.3.4 ABY)_   
_Cantonica/Ieldraan_

Ben’s still groggy as he sets the shuttle down on the beach on Cantonica. Lights from the casino palaces twinkle, reflected in the shimmering water.

He flips through several pages of data Artoo thought essential to load onto his datapad. No, he doesn’t need to know the most effective card-counting methods to win at various games of chance. He doesn’t even have formalwear with him, so no one is going to let him into a casino. 

Ben needs to stay in the shadows. And then emerge from them as a fully-fledged, entirely different person. Luckily, between unlimited credits and the Force, he thinks he’s got this. 

He belts on a semi-formal Alderaanian jacket over his athletic shirt and trousers, then runs his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t look fancy enough to go to a casino, but he looks good enough to be someone on a break from going to a casino. The sort of person who might conceivably go to a casino, rather than the sort of person who fixes trash compactors for a living. 

He pockets the datapad, holsters a blaster and his lightsaber, picks up the rucksack containing all his gear, and lowers the shuttle access ramp. He’s only a few meters along the sand when trouble shows up. It’s some kind of hovercraft or large speeder, containing five security guards in matching grey and white uniforms. Their helmets and goggles are black, and vaguely evoke his grandfather’s melted helmet in their overall shape. These guys are nowhere near as imposing as the historical holos he’s viewed of Vader and the stormtroopers, though. If he had to guess, they are probably the local equivalent of mall cops.

He puts his hand on his hip near his holster anyway. “Is there a problem, officers?”

“Yes, there’s a problem,” one cop responds. “This is not a legal parking zone. We also received notice from the spaceport that your craft did not follow correct communication protocols, and your transponder codes correspond to a craft that was recently reported stolen from Yavin IV.”

_Fuck Luke_ , Ben thinks, before plastering on a big grin. “Oh really? That’s too bad because,” and he makes a small gesture with his left hand to ensure they’re looking at him, “there’s absolutely no problem here.”

“There’s absolutely no problem here,” chorus four of the officers.

The fifth looks at his companions. “Wait, what’s going on?” he asks. Apparently, he’s not weak-minded enough to be easily persuaded. But Ben doesn’t want his plan to evade Luke to be derailed this quickly, so he’ll have to handle this guy another way. He reaches out in the Force and lifts his hand, levitating the man high above his fellow officers. They look up in confusion. Ben then hurls the man through the air to collide with the shuttle. There’s a dull thud. The impact is strong enough to knock him out. Hopefully not to kill him, though that would make things simpler. 

The other four look as stunned as their comrade actually is. Ben gets their attention again. “You did encounter a slight problem,” he corrects. “Your fellow officer was assaulted by a small blond man who called himself Luke Skywalker.” That’ll serve Luke. Though, if the cop dies it’s a bit unfair to pin it on his uncle, even if Luke does have an airtight alibi. He sighs, then puts plenty of persuasion into his next words. “He wasn’t really Luke Skywalker. The man…had a bionic eye.” 

“We were assaulted by a small blond man with a bionic eye who claimed to be Luke Skywalker,” they assent.

“You should check on your friend, wait five minutes, then call for backup,” Ben finishes.

“We will check on our friend, wait five minutes, then call for backup.”

Wow, using Force abilities is actually somewhat thrilling — fun, even — when Luke isn’t here to suspiciously critique everything he does. But now it’s time to get as far away from this shitshow as possible. He doesn’t want to be anywhere nearby when backup comes — even if four out of five officers are certain that the troublemaker is about as far from his description as humanly possible, and the fifth is unconscious.

It takes a while, but eventually Ben makes it to the main spaceport. There’s a bustle of life here that’s much more rich and diverse than he had experienced even at the heart of the Republic in Chandrila. He surreptitiously uses the datapad to capture images of a few humanoids he can’t identify. The datapad flashes identifications to him. Ithorians. A Gungan. Those green ones, like the bounty hunter he deflected a blaster shot into, back on Yavin, are Rodians. 

Ben looks for a likely target of Force persuasion to help him scout out the port and find a shuttle to steal. Soon his eyes light on just the man. He’s a human, slouching from his above average height, wearing a long grey trenchcoat and a soft hat. When Ben reaches out in the Force, everything seems slightly off about this man. There’s something very wrong about his way of life, and Ben will feel not at all bad about using him in pursuit of his goals.

Ben slouches up next to the man and leans against the wall, putting his rucksack down at his feet. “Hey pardner,” he drawls. “How long you been in Canto Bight?”

The young man gives him an incredulous expression. “Wh-why should I t-tell you?”

Ben smiles. “You want to tell me everything,” he assures the other man with deep conviction.

“I want to tell you everything,” the man responds, his stutter suddenly gone. “My name is DJ and I’m here because I love to steal,” he continues. 

Ben snorts. “Well, then we have something in common today,” he says. “I would love to steal your ship.”

“It’s not my ship,” DJ says earnestly.

“All the better,” Ben responds, smiling and gesturing broadly. “You will show me where it is and I’ll take it off your hands.”

“I stole it from Dengar. He works for Jabba the Hutt. They won’t be happy if you steal it.”

“Do I look like I care?” Ben claps DJ across the back, forcefully. “Come on, it’ll be my problem now.”

“Your problem. Sure,” DJ looks a bit confused, but leads Ben to a remote berth in the spaceport. There’s a beat-up shuttle, but it’ll be fine for Ben’s purposes.

“Thanks, DJ,” Ben says. “Just remember, our conversation never happened.”

“Our conversation never happened,” DJ parrots back. 

“You have somewhere else to be,” Ben adds when DJ just keeps standing there staring at him.

“I have somewhere else to be!” DJ says, as if it’s a revelation. He turns on his heel and slouches out of the hangar.

Ben chucks his rucksack onto a seat in the grimy lounge area of his new shuttle and makes his way to the cockpit. Whoever Dengar was, he had a pretty slovenly lifestyle — unless all the dirt has accumulated since DJ stole the ship. Ben pulls the datapad out and begins entering parameters. “Take me somewhere where I can get lost” was clearly not enough info if Ben wanted to end up, well, anywhere he would like to be. Cantonica sucks.

He thinks for a moment, then poses some quick questions to the datapad. “Where would Bail want to visit?” _Naboo._ “Where would I learn the most about my family?” _Tatooine._ “Where would Lando Calrissian want to visit?” _You’re already there._ Ugh. “Where would Chewbacca want to go?” _Takodana._ “How about Obi-Wan Kenobi?” _He had a debt to settle on Utapau_.

Ben searches for information on the systems mentioned, and determines that Tatooine and Takodana are the best choices for lying low, but Takodana is much farther away. Also, Tatooine has something to do with Hutts, and DJ had mentioned that this ship was stolen from someone who worked for the Hutts. Takodana it is, then.

After the fiasco of his landing, Ben now realizes that it is expected that ships will interface with atmospheric landing control on both takeoff and landing. He doesn’t know the codes for DJ’s/Dengar’s shuttle, though, and he has no plans to visit Cantonica ever again, so he just lifts off and guns it. He’s entered the hyperspace coordinates — it’ll be a long slog to Takodana — and is seeing blue lines before anyone from the control tower can complain.

Now that he’s in hyperspace Ben has a bit of leisure to explore. He finds three bunk rooms, one of them with a bed clean enough he can imagine sleeping in it. There’s a sonic refresher and laundry unit. He finds a closet which contains a battered, non-functional astromech droid and a heap of clothing. Some might even in be in his size, including outerwear for a variety of extreme climates. He throws anything that looks washable into the sonic laundry, figuring it will be useful to have some new attire if Luke has put out an all points bulletin on him for stealing the shuttle.

He wanders into the galley and fixes some rations from his pack for a late supper. There’s a bottle of Corellian whiskey in the cabinet, which he sips while he starts in on trying to read the first of the Jedi texts he stole from Luke. This is going to take a lot of whiskey, he realizes.

He’s had enough practice with Aurebesh writing at this point that the more recent texts are legible. One is a history of sentient inhabitation of Yavin IV. The other is a report on the find locations of known Jedi and Sith holocrons, authored by someone called the Grand Inquisitor some ten years prior. Apparently Emperor Palpatine had been interested in acquiring all available holocrons, and amassed an impressive collection. The remaining texts are written in incomprehensible ancient hands. If Ben doesn’t plan to go back to Chandrila soon and pick Threepio’s brain, he’ll need to find another source of archaic linguistic knowledge.

For now, he settles back on the bunk with the catalogue of holocrons -- should prevent insomnia for sure -- and a refilled glass of whiskey.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 3, Day 5 (5.6.3.5 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

“Senator Organa?” Kaydel peeks into his office. “I have a very unusual message for you from the Cantonica Ports Authority.”

“What is it?” Bail asks, looking up from his neverending stream of Senate correspondence. 

“They claim that a shuttle belonging to you and reported stolen from Yavin IV by Luke is currently impounded at the Canto Bight spaceport after being cited for illegal parking. Also, that the patrol that ticketed it reports they were assaulted by a man with a bionic eye who claimed to be Luke Skywalker. Although one member of the patrol had a different story.”

Bail raises an eyebrow. “I agree, Kaydel, that is extremely unusual. Well, at least we know where the shuttle is. See if you can find a pilot to go pick it up. Evaan might be free.”

“Will do, Senator,” Kaydel assures him, smiling. After she leaves the room, Bail rests his head on his hands. He tries to will the worries that still plague him away. The worries about the continued ex-Imperial incursions, about the fragility of the fledgling Senate, about whatever had possessed them to find some more Skywalkers and set them loose in the galaxy.

After a moment, he stands, pushing his bulk up from his chair with a little more difficulty. Age catches up with everyone in the end; it even got Yoda. He stretches his creaking back and goes to find Padmé. She needs to have a family conference damn soon.

* * *

  
_Base One. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 4, Day 1 (5.6.4.1 ABY)_   
_Yavin IV/Ieldraan_

Luke practically runs to meet the _Millennium Falcon_ when it touches down, he’s so glad to see friendly faces. Leia basically hasn’t been speaking to him since his spat with Ben, and while he and Nunb understand one another okay without the automatic translator, it’s easiest to stick to the basics. 

While the extroverted part of Luke’s personality is desperate for human interaction, he checks himself as the ramp comes down and Lando and Chewie make their way out of the freighter. It’s over; Luke knows it’s over, and his fling with Lando was simply a particular moment in time for each of them. Then, they were fighting together to liberate the galaxy; now, they each have their own goals, and their priorities, ethics, aesthetics, they’re all too different. 

It’s over. Stay cool.

He raises a hand in greeting before the Wookiee engulfs him in the usual enormous hug. That gets Luke laughing, and he hugs Lando too, patting his shoulders in comradely fashion. “Come on, guys, let’s load up the prisoners and blow this rock, all right?” he exclaims.

“How’s your team?” Lando asks. 

“Not great. The techs will stay here, we’ll get them a new ship within the week. Nunb is going to come along for medical attention. And,” Luke winces, “Leia’s healing up fine but she’s not speaking to me. She blames me for her son going rogue,” Luke explains.

Lando looks at him intently. “Well, is she right?”

Luke throws up his hands. “How is it my fault? He’s a grown man. But honestly I don’t think Leia or I really want to talk about it right now, ok?”

Lando nods supportively. “Okay. Let’s get you guys out of here before more bounty hunters come after you. Looks like you’ve got yourself quite the reputation. We headed back to Chandrila?”

“That’s right,” Luke assents, pointing out the confinement cells.

* * *

  
_London, England. 3 February 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Han Solo returns from a truly spectacular lunch with investors in Mayfair to find a grim-faced Miss Sharest pacing before her desk. He raises an inquiring eyebrow, but she keeps her lips sealed until they’ve stepped into his inner sanctum. He’s surprised to find Miss Nest already there, speaking into her mobile in low tones. She ends the call as soon as she sees him.

“I imagine you haven’t seen the news,” she says as preamble. He shakes his head quizzically. “More trouble at the Rathtar fields. A bomb this time. I just got off the phone with 5010 Group and they confirm that there has been increased activity on the dark web in terms of conversation about the site, but they haven’t been able to determine who is responsible yet.”

“Fuck,” Han mutters, sitting down heavily in his great black leather swivel chair. “Why is someone trying to sabotage us? Investment from Solo will be great for the local economy, we pay plenty in rights and taxes, the Russkies even control some of the areas the pipeline will go through so they will get paid too. Who stands to benefit? Are the oil majors upset I bought one small exploration site?” He shakes his head, unwilling to believe his pals from Royal Dutch Shell, ExxonMobil, and BP could plot against him in such a deliberately violent manner.

“I’ve got to get to the bottom of this, ladies. I’ve got to.” He runs his palms over his face, then turns to Enfys. “Please get me on a call with those hacker people. I’d like to hear what they’re finding in their own words and try to motivate them a bit.”

Miss Sharest senses her dismissal and stands to leave the office. “Let me know anything you need,” she says soothingly as she steps out.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 4, Day 5 (5.6.4.5 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

They haven’t been back in civilization for long, but Leia already knows what she wants. And what she doesn’t want: She doesn’t want to go back to the sweaty jungle of Yavin IV. She doesn’t want to practice saber forms. She doesn’t want to listen to Luke’s sanctimonious lectures, that have cost her the sudden and tenuous pleasure of having a relationship with her only child. She also doesn’t want to leave here with her tail between her legs, or go back to Earth for any reason. That Amy Winehouse song about not going back to rehab rattles around in the back of her mind.

She does want to do some good for this galaxy while she’s here. She wants to spend time with the family she still has: Padmé, Luke (when he's not being a dick), the weird ghost of her flawed father. To reach out to Ben when he’s ready. And to make friends.

This is why she finds herself knocking on Bail’s office door. “Come in,” he says, and the door slides open. She enters and takes a seat across from the elder statesman at his desk.

“Bail, I seem to recall you suggesting you might have a position for me on your senatorial support staff,” Leia starts in with her trademarked directness. 

“That is true,” he agrees, smiling. “Is there a chance you have considered my offer and are looking at it favorably?”

“Yes,” Leia responds eagerly. “I just have to tell my brother where he can shove his Jedi training, and then I will be entirely at your service.”

“That’s fantastic,” Bail enthuses. “The galaxy needs Jedi advisers. I’ve missed working with people with your kind of insight. Thank you so much, Leia, for remembering my offer. It will be wonderful to introduce you to the Alderaanian diaspora more as time goes by.”

She smiles, warmed by his positivity. “How do I get started—what do I need to learn and what can I do first?”

* * *

  
_East Berlin, Germany. 5 February 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Heikki Tamminen and Aino Suotamo are seated side-by-side on his pristine sofa. “Well, here goes nothing,” he mutters, dialing into the Skype call scheduled with Han Solo. The executive appears almost immediately, his camera askew, showing mostly his chin and nose. Eventually he realizes this and tries to adjust the camera angle. 

Heikki clears his throat. “Thanks for your patience, Mr. Solo. I’m Tai and this is Voe. We were on a site visit for another client the last two days.”

Solo frowns, but gestures for him to continue. “Whatever. Just tell me what you’ve found.”

“We’ve traced the financing for the group that bombed your oilfields. If it were just the Russians we would have expected the money trail to lead to Jersey or Switzerland, but it actually went to Singapore. So an English origin is more likely.”

“Wait,” Han asks. “You’re saying that you suspect it’s an English person because the money trail doesn’t lead to England?”

“Exactly,” Voe nods. “I know it sounds counterintuitive. Different countries have different preferred tax havens. Like how you have your properties in the Bahamas, correct?"

"Yeah, sure," Han says. "Just smart business. But you're saying the Russians don't bank in Singapore?"

"No, not really. On the other hand you should still keep your eyes open. The Russian agents are just used to operating in London with relative impunity. They don’t hide their tracks, yet they still get away with murder,” she warns him.

Han frowns. “I don’t have to worry about actual murder, do I?”

Tai shrugs. “I would not rule anything out. Do they have any reasons to hate you, the Russians? Besides that you buy this oil field?”

Han gives a disarming shrug. “Hey, Solo Group is in everything. If they're mad that I am a successful businessman, they would not be the first. But I'll take your advice and be careful who I take my tea with.”

“Sorry that we don’t have more concrete information,” Voe adds. “We’ll let you or your lawyer know as soon as we do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I write while I am falling asleep at the same time. That’s when I create paragraphs like this outtake:
> 
> Ben snorts. So, maybe no links to the inside, but plenty of rations. He supposes it would be better than an airless room. “Well, after you give me your ship you can be sure I will not help the predatory classes. It’s all about chickpeas,” he adlibs, probably to no one’s advantage.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maz Kanata has her suspicions about the new "Corellian" in town. A Skywalker/Naberrie family picnic goes off better than you would expect (I mean, it couldn't go _worse_ than you would expect, right?). And Poe Dameron thinks he's solved the mystery of Rey's "hallucinations."

_Hyperspace, Tashtor Sector. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 5, Day 2 (5.6.5.2 ABY)_   
_Western Reaches/Ieldraan_

The shuttle’s navicomputers indicate fifteen minutes until it’s time to drop out of hyperspace. Ben is finishing his packing. He plans to ditch this foul disaster of a shuttle on Takodana, so once again he must leave nothing on board. Artoo’s notes indicate Takodana is temperate, and he dresses accordingly. He selects some of the discarded clothing he found in the shuttle: a white long-sleeved shirt (rolling the cuffs halfway up his forearms since they were an inch too short) and a pair of navy trousers with bold red striping down the sides, also an inch or two on the short side, tucked into the tops of his usual boots. 

The shuttle’s cargo bay contains a kind of levitating dolly that he will use to bring his increased possessions. There’s his own rucksack, with the Force-related books and artifacts and his and Bail’s old clothes. A second bag that he found on this ship, filled with the newly washed clothes and outerwear. Finally, he hefts the busted astromech droid onto the dolly. If it’s anything like Artoo, the thing will be super useful if he can get it working.

Thinking of Artoo, Ben pulls out the datapad and activates the humanoid-identification program he’d used so much on Cantonica. On a whim, he scans an image of himself from the neck down in the new clothing. “Human male, Corellian origin, ex-military” its identification flashes across the screen.

Ben pulls up some information on Corellia. Maybe he can claim to be from there while he’s lying low here on Takodana. Apparently Corellia was home of major ship-building works and many Corellian humans use only one name. Ben smiles to himself. Corellian he is, then.

He pulls the ship out of hyperspace when the alarm sounds and begins flying the approach to the planet. It’s quite appealing-looking, a big blue and green ball circling a faraway star. Ben studied Artoo’s travel guide while bored in hyperspace for the last few days, so he has figured out how to hail the planetary air traffic control frequency. They instruct him to land near the lakeshore. 

Lake Nymeve is quite gorgeous as he makes his approach. He congratulates himself on finding a nice spot to visit while avoiding Luke. He sets the creaking, clanking shuttle down gracefully, then switches off the engines. He stretches, shaking tension out of his shoulders, before standing (not quite to his full height; the cockpit is cramped as fuck) and making his way back to open the ramp leading out of the small cargo hold. 

A pleasant-smelling breeze wafts into the stale hold of the ship as the ramp opens. Ben smiles a bit as he activates the levitating cargo hauler and guides it down the ramp and out of the ship. He doesn’t even need his jacket, so he slings it on top of the heap of other stuff he’s cleared out of Dengar’s ship.

Ben walks past a number of other ships in the landing area and approaches a large stone edifice that has numerous flags cheerily waving from its parapet. A statue on a high pedestal depicts a humanoid of a species he hasn’t seen yet, so he scans it with the datapad in case it can identify art as well as living beings. “Unknown humanoid species depiction,” it flashes, “perhaps poorly executed sculpture of Weequay [confidence interval low].” Given that Ben’s never met a Weequay either, it’s not much help.

A droid approaches and asks if he needs a room or a storage locker for his stuff. It’s not really possible to assess the trustworthiness of a droid in the Force, so he takes the rucksack containing the items he actually cares about off the cargo hauler and accepts a storage ticket, letting the droid wander off to an elevator with his other acquisitions. Hopefully he’ll see them again.

Shouldering the rucksack he makes his way into the large, ancient-looking castle. He enters a series of rooms laid out like a cantina of sorts, filled with more species than he saw even in Cantonica. Many of the patrons are armed or scarred, and he feels a simmering dangerous energy in the Force. He doesn’t know whether or not to feel relieved by the large notice posted on the stone wall behind the bar, which is emblazoned with several different scripts, the Aurebesh at the top clearly demanding “NO FIGHTING.”

Ben takes a seat at the bar and wedges his large pack at his feet. He’s just started wondering where the bartender is when a tiny humanoid — looking suspiciously similar to the dignitary in the sculpture out front — pops up from behind the bar and looks at him intensely through enormous goggles. 

“You have money?” she asks abruptly.

Ben frowns. “Sure I have money,” he answers, pulling out the credit chip to demonstrate. She plucks it nimbly from his hand and scans it, then looks up at him assessingly. 

“A lot more money than I would have expected from a young man who shows up at my planet in the ship Dengar stole back in Corellia before his last job,” the little alien says.

That’s a surprise. How does this creature know all this? He’ll try to bluff his way through until he can find out what’s going on. He just hopes he’s not going to get handed over to the law for his stunts back on Cantonica. “I, uh, just wanted to help the ship get back to its rightful owners,” he shrugs, gesturing to his Corellian clothing. 

“Well, you better hope Dengar doesn’t find you, boy,” the old humanoid cackles. “He’s a bounty hunter.”

“I’m not particularly worried,” Ben says calmly. And he isn’t, not after the incompetent bounty hunters on Yavin IV. “Can I get something to drink now that you know I have the money to pay?”

“Quite so, quite so,” she answers. “I’m Maz, and this is my cantina. And you are?”

“Kylo,” he answers. It’s as good a name as any, and he won’t miss a beat if anyone calls him by it, given that Voe has been calling him Kylo since he was a ninth grader. “I’ll have Corellian whiskey, please.”

“Right, because you want me to think you’re Corellian,” she laughs. 

“Because I like Corellian whiskey!” he exclaims, not bothering to try to convince her of his Corellianness and wondering once again how omniscient she really is. He tries to reach out surreptitiously in the Force, but reading her is nigh impossible. It’s like trying to read his mom when their bond is closed.

“I can feel that, you know, punk,” Maz glowers at him. “I’ve seen one or two of your kind in my time, you know,” and she cackles again as if at some enormous personal joke. She slides the glass of whiskey over to him. It’s good, burns nicely. “Now, what are you looking for here?”

“I just need a place to hang out for a few weeks. Your droid mentioned you rent rooms?” Ben asks.

“I do. I’m not sure you’ll enjoy it here with my usual clientele, though. We’re a lot of pirates and bounty hunters and spies. I can enforce No Fighting, but if someone’s looking for you, I can’t promise no one will sell you out.”

Ben nods. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe buy myself a ship or hire on with a crew after a couple days.”

Maz slides him a door card. “Top of the south tower. I’ll have the droids send your stuff up, Kylo.”

* * *

  
_Alderaanian Diaspora Shooting Club. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 5, Day 2 (5.6.5.3 ABY)_  
 _Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Padmé powers down Bail’s speeder and turns to look at Luke in the passenger seat. He has a studiously controlled expression on his face, his fingers tapping out a rapid drumbeat on the dashboard. He had lost the argument about who was going to drive. “We’re here,” she announces.

Padmé, her two children and two droids climb out of the speeder and unload picnic baskets and blankets. The matriarch leads the way across the field to the best vantage point for viewing Hanna City and the Silver Sea. 

It’s astounding, the panorama. Leia gapes at the beauty, the pale grey-blue of the sky stretching vastly into the distance. She smiles at her mother. “So this is where you and Bail have been sneaking off to?”

Padmé nods. “If you’d like to learn to handle a blaster too, you should join us one of these days.”

Leia shrugs. “I can stop blaster fire well enough now with what Luke taught me,” she inclines her head, acknowledging her brother, who is dutifully spreading picnic blankets on the ground with Threepio’s aid. “I don’t need to go around shooting people too, but I suppose I can learn how to handle the weapon.”

“You didn’t call us up here for a membership drive for the Alderaanian Shooting Club, though, did you, mother?” Luke asks. His piercing blue eyes always remind her of Anakin. Speaking of whom…

For once, Padmé’s errant spouse arrives just on time. The shimmering blue form materializes by the picnic basket and begins poking around in the food. 

“Hey, stop that, Dad,” Luke groans. “Just let me and Threepio finish setting stuff up. It never works when you try to move things anyway.”

Leia snorts, amused by the absurdity of it all. “This is the weirdest fucking picnic I’ve ever been on, and I’m not even drinking yet — and that includes the midnight one in Madrid where David Bowie and Han started wrestling in a fountain.”

Padmé raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her daughter. “Pardon me if I’m eager to take advantage of the opportunity to have my _first ever_ whole-family picnic.”

Anakin’s Force ghost crosses his arms. “You’re just doing this because Bail insisted, one, and two, one of your family members isn’t here because he and Luke are idiots.”

“I could have had some nice family picnics with my husband and children long before I even had a grandson,” Padmé retorts, “if _you_ weren’t such an idiot. So I guess it runs in the family.”

“Well, we’re here so let’s do this,” Leia says matter-of-factly. “Bail is right. I think we could all agree that Bail is often right.” Anakin scowls transparently, but eventually nods, his mouth tight. 

Padmé thanks Threepio, who has handed out plates to the three living organics at the picnic. Artoo produces a cocktail shaker from somewhere in his innards and thrusts it at Leia, who accepts with alacrity. 

“Bail did insist, darling,” the older lady admits to Anakin, “but I told him to butt out. This is _my_ family, and I’m going to make sure we fix what we’ve broken. So, Luke,” she says pointedly, “what do _you_ think we should do about Ben?”

“What do _I_ think?” Luke looks incredulous, pointing at his chest. “You don’t actually care what I think. _You_ think Ben is fine and will come back when he’s ready. My sister on the other hand thinks we need to find her son immediately, and if we don’t she plans to disembowel me with a lightsaber. I don’t see where I can win in this conversation.” He sighs and takes a large bite of food. That should preclude further speech for a while.

“He has a point,” Anakin says. “Ben is trying to block his connections with you two in the Force, which suggests Padmé’s approach may be the right one. But Leia, I could try to break through to him if you like.”

“Can’t you just tell us where he is?” Leia asks, sipping her mysterious cocktail.

“I don’t think so,” Anakin shakes his glowing blue mane slowly. “I understand my past, my present, emotions…I can make a plan for the future…but I can’t tell you my visions of the future and I’m not omniscient. Reduced travel time is the only advantage I have over you in looking for someone elsewhere in this galaxy.”

“Well, get your butt in gear, then,” his daughter responds. “Tell him to call his mom and not to do anything stupid. Or call his grandma if that guilts him better.”

Padmé smiles, thinking of her grandson. Then she frowns slightly. “Luke, you never did tell us what you thought we should do.”

“Anakin’s plan is as good as any,” the young Jedi replies. “Let him reach out to Ben; we can keep looking for Jedi artifacts, though that will be a lot harder after he stole all my books. And we can help the Senate guard against the Imperial remnants.”

* * *

  
_By the Shores of Lake Nymeve. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 5, Day 3 (5.6.5.3 ABY)_  
 _Takodana/Ieldraan_

Maz directed Ben to this clearing in the forest near the lake when he asked where he might go to take a little physical exercise and meditation without being disturbed. It’s beautiful like everything else on Takodana, with a high evergreen canopy shadowing a rocky dell carpeted with ferns and moss-covered logs. He leaps through the air to carom off a tree while swinging his bold blue saber through a challenging series of forms. He doesn’t want to lose any fitness or the skills Luke taught him, and long travels through hyperspace didn’t allow him to really push himself.

After the forms he stands on his hands and practices his Force levitation. Takodana feels more like Yavin IV than Chandrila in terms of the ease with which Ben can draw on the Force. He’s surrounded by the energy of living things, but not by the distractions of an entire city full of people. Takodana does have its cluster of sentient life-forms at Maz’ castle — a castle which seems also to house some mysterious Force energies he will have to look into — but Ben’s less distracted by them now. He also seems to have mastered his maternal and learning bonds, so it no longer takes conscious effort to maintain a continuous block on Luke or his mother sensing his presence.

If only the Force could help him read the ancient Jedi texts. He exhales slowly, finishing the meditation and returning to an upright position. The last part of his workout is a swift run through the forest, by the lake and back to the castle/cantina. While he runs he thinks about what he learned from reading the catalogue of holocrons. The text mostly contains technical details about the physical appearance, provenance or discovery site, and known history of all the holocrons collected by Emperor Palpatine. Where they have gone since the fall of the Empire is unknown. 

The book has a little bit of general information about holocrons, however, and Ben found it very informative. A Jedi holocron was cubical and glowed blue, infused with the light side of the Force. It could only be used or activated by a Jedi Master or a practitioner of the Light side of the Force. Ben recalls that Uncle Nick — Master Windu — claimed to have one of these which he called a “wayfinder” and used for travel between Earth, Asgard, and Ieldraan. The Director of SHIELD didn’t strike him as being as fully aligned with the traditional Light-side philosophies as Luke, so it must be possible to use a Jedi holocron without disavowing all passion or emotion.

On the other hand the Sith holocrons, like the one Ben has brought gingerly with him from Yavin IV, are pyramidal in shape and glow red with the fragment of Aether they contain. They can only be used or activated by Sith Lords or practitioners of the Dark side of the Force. The Grand Inquisitor who wrote the catalog noted that possessing a bled kyber crystal (whatever that is) was often sufficient to activate a Sith holocron, even without further demonstration of a devotion to the Sith arts. 

Finally, the Grand Inquisitor described a ritual involving a Sith and a Jedi working together to activate two complementary holocrons simultaneously. This would theoretically create a condition known as “the Vergence,” which provided the Force users with supernatural levels of arcane knowledge. The disgraced Sith Darth Maul was thought to have studied the concept of the Vergence, but it was unknown whether anyone actually activated it. The Grand Inquisitor remarked acerbically that Darth Maul had a hard enough time persuading loyal subjects of Darth Sidious to cooperate with him; it was highly improbable that he would be able to convince a Jedi to work with him.

Ben files away this knowledge. It seems that the small object he has in his possession is both highly dangerous (he hasn’t forgotten what Nonna said about the Aether) and powerful enough to allow inter-realm travel. He just needs to find out what a “bled kyber crystal” is. He has a couple of spare crystals, but he doesn’t know if bled crystals are mined in a particular place or if it is a transmutation of a normal crystal. Again, if only he can find a way to understand the more arcane books he stole from Luke.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. February 12, 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey feels like she’s been moving non-stop for the entire first month of school. Classes, job applications, the cafe and MMA blur together in a whirl of intensity. Her final semester of college feels like a culmination, with each cool opportunity marking out how much she has achieved.

There’s only so much one can fit into one week, though, so it should be nice to take a break and watch some shows tonight with Finn and Poe. She can’t stop thinking about the strange dream or encounter with Ben Solo last month, and has been going back and forth on whether to tell her friends. It seems so inexplicable, but maybe there is a rational explanation? She just hasn’t found it herself.

She pulls the meatloaf out of the oven — Padmé’s special recipe — and is lining up the mashed potatoes and salad on the counter for self-service ease when the door swings open. Finn and Poe hang their coats, chattering and laughing loudly, and come into the kitchen bearing a paper bag full of wine bottles from their outing to the package store. The three young people exchange hugs and then load up their plates before adjourning to the couch. 

After five minutes of bickering about what show to watch, the Netflix logo is still menacing them from the TV screen. Rey laughs. “I’m sorry. I can’t be bothered to care what we should watch. Can I tell you a crazy story instead?” Poe raises an eyebrow and shrugs, but the guys both nod in affirmation. 

“So Finn, do you remember that day when I called you into the shop because I thought I was hallucinating? It was sometime around Thanksgiving,” she says.

Finn nods vigorously. “How could I forget.”

“Well,” she continues, “it’s happened more times.” 

Poe frowns. “Is it, like, migraines?”

Rey shakes her head. “No, that’s what Finn asked me that first time. It’s not weird lights and sounds. It’s…” she laughs and shakes her head. “This sounds too stupid, but it’s not what you think. I see Ben Solo.”

The bookseller looks confused, and it’s Finn’s turn to frown. “You see tall dark and grumpy? Your landlady-slash-boss’s grandson, who is also your housemate whose room you've taken over while he’s out of town?”

“Him. That first day he was sitting at a table in the cafe. Another time he was jogging, just across the street, but a bus came by before I could talk to him.”

“Maybe he just said he was leaving, but never actually left town?” Poe suggests. 

Finn tilts his head to the side in confusion. “So where’s Padmé? Are they both hiding out somewhere in town for some reason? Or did Ben murder grandma and just pretend they were going on a trip?”

“Whoa, whoa,” Rey exclaims. “I did wonder if he was back but not admitting it for some shady reason. But I don’t think he would murder his grandma? Besides, honestly, she’s at least as shady as he is. So if it’s something shady they’re both involved, I’m sure of it.”

“Hold on a second, what do you mean?” Finn asks, gaping at her statement about their wonderful boss.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to say,” Rey sips her wine, thinking back to the midnight conversation about her landlady’s young life as Mathilda, the hitman, the murdered family, the revenge.

Poe steeples his fingers, then points at Rey. “You don’t have to say, we’ll guess! So, you said she is Italian, right?”

Finn nods, looking at his boyfriend. “Either off the boat or first generation.”

“And she has a boatload of money?” Poe continues.

“She’s not flashy, but yes,” Rey admits. “She had some hush-hush job as a government scientist for decades. If she invested right, I don’t think it’s implausible…”

“No, Poe is right,” Finn interrupts. “Government science research jobs don’t get you this house. Poe, are you thinking Padmé has something to do with the Mafia?”

Poe shrugs, smiling. “I hope not, but this is Somerville, Massachusetts. Haven’t you heard of the Winter Hill Gang? Whitey Bulger? Rey, what does Ben Solo do for work? Think back. Did either of them ever do or say anything that might remind you of the mob?”

“Ben’s an ethical hacker, security consultant type. He was in the Navy SEALs until a couple years ago. I don’t think mobsters generally join the military? Anything about the mob…well, I would guess that Padmé’s friend Léon had some connection decades ago, but he hasn’t disappeared or gone in hiding. He still comes in the cafe every Friday.” She thinks about the time Ben appeared in her—his—bed, wearing a velvet suit and looking like he may have been shot. But explaining that might be a bridge too far. Maybe they could work out a reasonable explanation without getting into all the details.

“I wonder if we can ask Léon if he thinks they’re secretly still around. I’m really interested by this mob angle,” Poe enthuses, sitting forward on the edge of the sofa cushion. “I guess you can’t ask people point blank if they’re in the mob, can you. Do you think Han Solo would know if his mother-in-law was Family, so to speak?”

“I don’t think he gave us his number so we could pester him with questions like that,” Finn objects. 

“He’s looking for his family too! Maybe he doesn’t know they’re in the Mafia, and if Rey texts him he’ll figure it out and hire commandos to rescue Leia!” Poe exclaims.

“Whoa, Poe, just hold on,” Rey laughs. “I’m glad you are so excited about your idea, because I’d rather not think I’m hallucinating, but really. I’m not going to text one of the world’s most prominent businessmen to suggest his son and mother-in-law are in the Mafia. I’m sure there’s some simpler explanation and you, sir, need to stop reading the merchandise in your thrillers section.”

Poe laughs. “Well, why don’t we watch a good thriller and I promise I’ll get it out of my system?” Poe is a big fan of Sixties cinema, which Rey and Finn honestly know very little about. They let him choose and he queues up _Wait Until Dark_ , which has the bonus of featuring Audrey Hepburn. Rey may not know a lot about old film, but she knows Audrey Hepburn is fantastic.

Later, after the film, after the boys have retreated to Finn’s bedroom, Rey sits in Ben’s large desk chair and powers on the computer, just to be sure once again that she didn’t imagine the information he gave her. But instead of running through the whole boot sequence to the login screen, a black screen full of technical data about the motherboard confronts her. “CPU Fan Error!” exclaims the stark white text at the bottom. 

“What the…?” she sputters. Luckily, she knows how to replace a CPU fan. Ben won’t ever have to know she fried his work computer.

* * *

  
_London, England. 13 February 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

“Beckett, I’m warning you,” Han growls into the phone. “There’s a reason it’s called Solo Group. You need to stop thinking you can tell me what to do, and stay in your lane.”

The older man snorts derisively. “My lane is I’m one of the directors on the board of governance. You need some governance. The directors think this Caspian investment is a total shitshow. I’m warning you, Han. We need some answers. Putting our employees’ and contractors’ lives at risk is not acceptable.”

Han slams the phone down into the cradle and stands abruptly from his chair, stalking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to look down over the bustling streets of his adopted city. One figure in a grey trench coat isn’t budging from his position by the lamppost across the way. The same man was there Wednesday and Thursday. He thought he caught a glimpse of the same trench coat lurking outside one of the embassies down the street from Han’s home.

He misses a time when “what crazy antics will land my wife in the _Daily Mail_ next” was the extent of his problems. Right now, there are a few too many mysteries on his plate, some with increasing stakes. Where is his family? Who’s targeting his business? Is someone stalking him? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would it help to have Wookieepedia links in the notes when I introduce obscure canon/EU characters? Or do you all recognize people like DJ and Dengar when they show up?
> 
> Force Bond is back next week...


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, American readers! In honor of the holiday, here, have some weird glitchy Valentine's Day across galaxies for #reylo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for another friendly neighborhood warning that while Han/Leia is endgame, they have been separated for well over a decade and lead their own eventful lives...and this applies to Leia as well as Han.

_Somerville, Massachusetts. February 14, 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

That…was one of the more awkward third-wheel experiences Rey has had. She sighs and throws her purse down on the bed, almost falling over as she struggles out of the high heels she so rarely wears. 

Finn meant well, really, inviting her to tag along to a casual dinner at the Thai place and then a French New Wave film at the Harvard Film Archive. She didn’t really know much about Truffaut’s _Jules et Jim_ —another Poe choice—so was surprised by the ménage-a-trois aspect of the plot. Not a very orthodox choice for Valentine’s Day? Poe seems to love everything about the film, but Finn was almost asleep by the end, and the guys staggered off to bed as soon as they made it back to Davis. Rey provisioned herself with a bottle of Scotch and one of Padmé’s glasses and made her way up to her lonely bed in Ben’s warm loft. 

The wind whistles outside the gables and a spindly oak branch is scraping back and forth on the siding. She shucks off her sparkly top, fuzzy shrug, and tight leather-look trousers, deciding on a deep blue satin nightgown. It might be a lonely Valentine’s, but that doesn’t mean she can’t feel a little sexy. 

Rey needs some entertainment to go with her whisky, but she’s just finished the novel she was reading. She ambles over to Ben’s shelves, running her fingers over the spines as she considers her options. There’s fantasy; maybe she would enjoy _The Silmarillion_? Orwell, Amis, Kerouac — they don’t feel right for her mood. Maybe poetry? There are a couple of slim volumes, still sporting their “Used Saves” stickers from some university bookshop. Ginsburg. Neruda. Whitman. She huffs a sigh and pulls some of them out.

* * *

  
_Maz Kanata’s Castle. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 5, Day 4 (5.6.5.4 ABY)_   
_Takodana/Ieldraan_

Ben can’t sleep. He hasn’t been troubled by insomnia much since coming to Ieldraan. The challenges of life in a new galaxy have generally left him so completely exhausted he’s been able to pass out and sleep without nightmares. But tonight, up in this weird room at the top of this weird stone tower, his thoughts are just racing. He sighs and sits up, activating the lights in the room with a Force-infused wave of his hand. He needs something to occupy his mind until he can fall asleep.

He looks at his pile of stuff in the corner. The disused astromech has been just sitting there since arrival. Maybe if he plugs it into the room’s droid charging port (yes, even in this ancient castle they are outfitted to support that level of technology) it will be able to power on and self-diagnose. That done, he flips open one of the more ancient Jedi texts, hoping against hope that he’ll have magically acquired the ability to read it.

He hasn’t.

Perhaps if he meditates over it, he’ll get some result? Ben sits on the bed and directs his thoughts at the book in the Force. He easily levitates it, but no knowledge magically flows to him. He is experiencing some strange feelings, though. He lets the book drop in his lap, focusing instead on the odd sensation that the Force wants to show him.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. February 14, 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Something strange is happening to Rey’s perception of sound, she realizes. There’s a whooshing stillness, like the scraping branch and the wind and the voices of the men from downstairs all fade away. She turns slowly away from the bookshelf, only to see Ben Solo sitting on the bed, shirtless, a large and ancient book in his lap, eyes wide in surprise. 

Rey shrieks and drops the poetry books on the ground. “How did you get in here?” she gasps. “How did I not hear you come up the stairs and open the door? Or were you hiding in the freaking closet?” she asks in an escalating crescendo. 

Ben stands slowly with a pacifying gesture. Rey could swear he was putting the book down on the bed a moment ago, but now it’s disappeared. But no matter. _He_ is still here. In loose black sleep pants only. She gulps and bends to pick up the pile of books she dropped on the floor.

“You didn’t hear me because I didn’t come up the stairs and I wasn’t hiding in the closet. Where are you? I can’t see your surroundings, just you,” Ben says, his eyes roving over her body as she bends down, exposing even more of her perfect legs. She looks better than he remembered or even imagined in that little scrap of a satin nightie, but that brings an uncomfortable thought to mind. “Wait, is someone with you?” He glances at his wristwatch. “Shit, it’s the middle of the night on Valentine’s Day where you are. Of course... I’ll…try to go away?” He sounds hesitant.

Rey is extremely confused. “Can’t you see there is no one else here?” she asks, puzzled. “Why do you keep saying ‘where you are’ when you are here too? In your room?”

Ben notices what she’s holding, now. It’s some of his poetry books from the “Forms of Poetry” elective he took at the Naval Academy. “You are,” he affirms, still endlessly surprised by their encounters even if he thinks he knows why they happen. “You’re in my room, and apparently, so am I? How is the Force doing this?”

“You’re not making any sense, Ben,” Rey protests, pushing past him to put her selected books on the nightstand. But as she brushes his arm in passing, something flickers in her vision. It’s like she loses all grasp on her surroundings. Rey gasps.

Ben grabs her hand, steadying her. And then an entirely different world blooms into view. Suddenly it looks like he isn’t in Maz Kanata’s pirate hotel/castle; he’s in his own bedroom back in Padmé’s house in Somerville. The bed is just where he thought his bed was on Takodana, but now there are familiar bookshelves and armoires and end tables and lamps and framed prints and rugs; admittedly with unfamiliar piles of what are obviously Rey’s things scattered over them.

Rey meanwhile is cursing under her breath. “I’m going out of my fucking head, right? Where the bloody hell is this and what is going on?”

Ben clings to her hand like his life depends on it. Who knows, in the grand scheme of things, where they really, factually are. “Try to stay cool, Rey,” he murmurs. “Sit down with me and I’ll try to explain.”

“On the bed? That’s the only thing I’m seeing any more that I can sit on. There’s also, like, rough stone walls and a large robot, like? And your backpack, some big heavy old books, and what looks like some guns?” Rey feels blind because while her visual cortex is processing these inputs, she knows in her heart that they are illusionary. She can’t have magically left Somerville without noticing!

“Yeah, the bed is great,” Ben nods, still not letting go of her hand. She sits down heavily and fumbles with her other hand for where she knows the bedside table must be, with her whisky glass. She could use something high proof right now. 

“Careful, don’t knock that over,” Ben laughs, grabbing the glass and taking a preemptive sip. “Shortstop. Oh God that tastes good. Islay?”

Rey nods. “Caol Ila. Give it here, I need it!”

Ben smiles and hands over the glass. “Scotch really is better than Corellian,” he muses. “I’m going to let go of your hand, because I think it will be easier to each see our own surroundings, but hopefully I’ll still be right here.”

“Okay…” Rey says tentatively. The stone walls fade away and the familiar surroundings of Ben’s bedroom come back into view. He’s still sitting right next to her, but she misses the warmth of his touch. “You have about a minute to explain how I’m not actually gone off my head. My friend is convinced you and Padmé are hiding out in the area for some reason and just want us to believe you’re gone when you actually aren’t. But what I just saw is…” Rey just trails off, unable to comprehend what’s going on.

“I get it,” Ben says softly but tersely. “Look, I don’t know if you remember when Nonna collapsed, but there was this guy who showed up. And he claimed to be my dead grandfather, but he looked about my age. I went through exactly what you’re going through when he started magically,” and he waves his large hand in the air, “appearing and disappearing.”

“I don’t get it.” Rey answers, taking a swig of the whisky. “What’s happening to us?”

“I was lucky,” Ben says, swallowing, his eyebrows raising to furrow his brow in an inquisitive expression. “I had someone to explain this fucked up shit to me. Nick Fury — now, if you see him, do NOT mention that I told you any of this — he was Nonna’s boss at the SHIELD agency. He explained that she did this astrophysics research and uncovered that there are, like,” he pauses, clearly searching for the right words. “There are multiple worlds. They call them realms. It’s not dimensions, really, because natural law works similarly. Though here time passes slower. So I don’t know.”

“Ah, that’s why you said it’s Valentine’s where _I_ am,” she says, tentatively. 

“Yeah,” he nods, “not like they have our holidays in this galaxy anyway, but only about half as many days have passed. Anyway, apparently my mom was born here. And she used to have this experience that you and I are having, but with my uncle Luke.”

“You have an uncle?” Rey asks. She doesn’t know very much about his family.

“We just found out in November that he existed. My mom's twin. When my mom was growing up, she used to have these crazy hallucinations of a little boy. It was her brother and they were connecting between, like, universes.” He lets out a breath. It sounds really insane when you put it into words like that. 

“I still don’t understand,” Rey laughs uneasily, taking another sip of Scotch. “How did no one know about this before your grandmother?”

“That’s not entirely the case. Just no one from Earth knew,” Ben admits. “There are ten realms. They have different properties, like the thing about time passing differently. There’s also this energy that some people can sense. It’s called the Force.”

Rey looks at him skeptically. “You know, if I _were_ hallucinating, my brain would make up something less crazy than this.” Her eyes dip briefly to his broad pale chest, which looks somehow even more cut than when they were housemates. She blushes, hastily drinking more Scotch. 

“I know, right?” Ben smiles. “So, some realms have a lot of people who can sense the Force. One realm, Asgard, apparently is all Force-sensitive. You’ve met someone from there, actually,” he says. “Remember Thor?”

“That big blond, uh, special friend of Padmé’s?” Rey answers quickly, and Ben frowns slightly. 

“Yeah, that guy,” Ben nods. “He’s Asgardian. Apparently Asgard discovered all the other realms. And they send Force-sensitives to monitor the realms. Our realm, Midgard, produces zero Force-sensitives as far as they know. But there have been a few from other realms who have come to Earth.”

“This is a great tale even if it is a load of bollocks,” Rey comments. “Go on.”

“So the first Force-sensitives to go to Midgard were Realm Protectors sent by the Asgardians. Since about 1900, the Realm Protector has been Nick Fury, Padmé’s old boss.”

“Who I’m supposed to not mention this to if I ever meet him?” Rey asks.

“Yeah. Great guy. But imposing. Saved my ass more than a couple times,” Ben shrugs. “Anyway he had some hare-brained scheme and took Padmé to Ieldraan, the realm he was from originally, after she discovered her theory of the realms. She fell in love with an extremely powerful Force-sensitive, he tried to kill her, etc. etc. So she went back to Earth with my mom, who it turns out is also Force-sensitive.”

“So if Leia has this Force thingy, and your grandfather did, what does that mean for you? But you were born on Earth,” Rey thinks aloud.

“Apparently being born on Earth is not the issue. Here in Ieldraan, I can use the Force. It’s pretty amazing,” Ben enthuses. “Here, let me try something.”

He fumbles around with something she can’t see and then turns back to her, opening his hand to reveal two bright yellow crystals resting there. He closes his eyes and breathes out forcefully through his nostrils, then fills his lungs again. As Rey watches, the crystals float out of his palm and begin to spin and dance in front of his face. A sound fills the air. It reminds Rey of the noise you get from wetting a finger and running it around the lip of a wine glass.

“That’s wild,” she says quietly. Ben opens his eyes and the crystals drop back into his palm. He offers them to her. 

“Here, take them,” he urges. “Do you notice anything?”

There’s a slight electrical sensation as she takes the crystals from Ben. “They’re…warm maybe?” she says hesitantly. “And I hear something, a beautiful musical chord.”

Ben’s eyes light up. “I knew it!” he exclaims, his hand landing warmly on her knee. She shivers. Their surroundings fizzle in and out of view as they make physical contact again. “I think…I think you are Force-sensitive, Rey.”

“How is that remotely possible? You’re taking the piss,” Rey scoffs.

“Where were you born, Rey?” Ben asks abruptly.

“I…I don’t know,” she admits, looking aside as she puts the two golden crystals down on the bedside table. “Maybe England given my accent, and I think I recall a desert at some point? But I don’t really remember before Massachusetts.”

“Where you lived with a man named Lorne Sant’ Ecca, right?” 

“That’s right, he was my adoptive father,” Rey concurs.

“Rey, when I told you about Force-sensitives who have lived on Earth, I mentioned Nick Fury, my mom, and myself. But there were others. In 1999, Thor wrote a letter to Nick and my grandmother introducing a pair of Force users who were coming to hide out on Earth. One was a child of Ieldraanian heritage. The other was the child’s fosterer, a Force user named Lor San Tekka.”

Rey clenches her eyes shut tight as she tries to think back to her earliest days. “May the Force be with you,” she whispers to herself, eyes shooting open. “That’s…I’d forgotten, since he never said it after I was a child. But that’s something he used to say.” A single tear tracks down one cheek. “Ben I…I’m terrified but I think I’m beginning to believe you.”

Screw it, Ben thinks, taking her hands in his and trying desperately to ignore the weird visual sensation of being in Somerville. If he just focuses on her, the surroundings don’t matter. “I think the Force is connecting us for a reason. I haven’t figured out what it is yet, but I feel better after I see you.”

Rey nods vigorously. “Absolutely. Me too though I am always utterly confused. I thought I was hallucinating and Poe was convinced you and Padmé were in the Mafia!”

Ben snorts. “Mafia what the fuck?" Then he looks concerned. "You told people you saw me? I don’t want people to refer you for mental treatment like they did my mother when she would see my uncle.”

Rey shrugs. “I can handle myself. I’ve been adopted, undocumented, and homeless. Now I’m graduating with an engineering degree, I have a job and friends. Finn and Poe are super supportive. I don’t think they are ready to hear I am from a different planet and have mystical powers, but that’s just because I don’t honestly believe it's real yet myself.”

“I could pinch you,” Ben jokes. 

“Hmm,” Rey muses, looking at his full lips. “Why don’t you kiss me instead?”

Ben doesn’t hesitate to comply. His hand is entwined in her hair in an instant, pulling her face to his. He trails one hand down her side to her waist, enjoying the cool feeling of the smooth silk. It's been too long.

“Mmm,” she hums, running one hand through his hair in return and pressing the other to his firm chest. “This is all so weird. What do I do next?”

Ben hungrily kisses her jaw, her earlobe, her neck. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. They sent you to Earth to keep you safe from something that may or may not still be out here. I’m trying to find out.”

“That’s weak,” she protests. “I’m not going to just sit here like a damsel.”

He laughs a muffled laugh into her shoulder. “I know, Rey. You’re going to build robots and judo the fuck out of some dudes and just don’t worry. There’s no way you can bridge this gap from Earth because no one can use the Force there. _I will come for you_ ,” he says earnestly, looking up into her eyes.

She frowns. And that’s when there’s a loud knocking. On whose door? In which universe? Ben starts up, only to groan inwardly as Rey fades from view and the hammering continues on his door.

In Somerville, Rey’s heart sinks. She flops back on the bed, fumbling for the glass of whisky. Her hand brushes something unexpected on the nightstand.

It’s the two yellow crystals. Warmth hums through her as she touches them, almost like an echo of how she feels when Ben touches her. She holds one up to the light, staring into it as if by looking she can get it to give up all the secrets of a galaxy far, far away.

* * *

  
_Maz Kanata’s Castle. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 5, Day 4 (5.6.5.4 ABY)_  
 _Takodana/Ieldraan_

Ben punches the door control in frustration and it slides open. There’s no one there. No, wait. He looks down to around waist level and there’s Maz Kanata, his host. “What is it,” he demands angrily. 

“We need to talk about your Force use, young man. Can you put a cowl on or something, and come with me?” she asks imperiously.

Ben sighs. He supposes some cultures are uncomfortable with bare-chested men. He grabs one of his old workout shirts and follows the oddly omniscient old lady. She leads him halfway down the spiral staircase of the tower. Then she pulls out a ring of heavy keys and unlocks a thick wooden door. It actually creaks open on hinges, and Ben realizes to his amazement that he hasn’t seen a door on hinges since he left Earth. 

Maz lights a lamp and shuts the door behind them before dusting off a couple of low stools. Well, to Ben they are low; to her they probably seem about right.

“Kylo, the amount of energy you were generating in the Force up there would attract the attention of anyone in the galaxy. And beyond. And there are still some powers out there that are dangerous. Your grandma was a wonderful lady, but they will be more interested in preying on the grandson of Anakin Skywalker,” she mutters, opening drawers and cabinets seemingly at random while she talks.

“Wait, how do you…who do you think my grandparents are?” Ben remains deeply confused by this tiny humanoid. Not that there's much about his life in Ieldraan that _isn't_ confusing.

“Your grandmother is Senator Amidala, of course, nitwit,” she cackles. “That girl was all over the holonews. And don’t think I didn’t notice that her eyes changed after she became senator. You’re the grandson of _Senator_ Amidala, not _Queen_ Amidala. Same eyes. And as she recently revealed to the galaxy after that Chandrila attack, her husband was Darth Vader a.k.a. Anakin Skywalker. Though you feel enough like him in the Force that I’d notice even if she were still hiding things.”

“How do you…are you a Jedi?” Ben asks, perplexed. 

“Not every Force user took sides, young man,” Maz admonishes him. “Just because Luke Skywalker believes something doesn’t make it the universal truth. Now. You need to learn more about your power before you bring every deep evil out of hiding to hunt you down. I have a book for you.”

“Great, just what I need, another book I can’t read,” he groans. 

“Hmm,” Maz mutters, adjusting her goggles and finally popping up from a cabinet holding an ancient tome. “I hadn’t thought of that. Here, take this, I’ll see what I can find.”

_Finally something she doesn’t know_ , Ben thinks with relief as he takes the dusty volume.

“Aha,” Maz says triumphantly, pulling more books off a shelf. “You’ll want these.”

Ben opens the second book she gives him. It has an Aurebesh title page: “A Dictionary and Grammar of the Old Tongue, With Alphabets Representing the Massassi Variants.” Huh. Maybe this would help him read the other books he stole from Luke. He takes up the next book in the pile, which is barely thicker than a pamphlet. The title page reads “Correct Installation and Cleaning of Vac Tubes in Commercial Freighters.”

“I think you gave me the wrong book, here,” Ben laughs, showing her the page.

“No, no, trust me, young Kylo. Turn the page,” Maz says, eyes twinkling behind her goggles.

The next page depicts a hooded figure and bears the title “Grammar of the Sith.” Ben’s brow furrows. “I don’t get it. Is this a book on space plumbing or Sith language?”

“Sith language, but it was prohibited. When I got a copy back in school, the man I got it from had rebound it to hide the contents,” Maz smiles wistfully. “Be careful with that stuff, I got the book from his corpse for a reason.”

Ben shivers a bit at the implications but looks at Maz piercingly. “When exactly were you in school?”

“Do they ask ladies their age where you come from?” she asks snarkily. Before he can answer, though, she’s continuing. “I have lived about a galactic standard millennium, give or take a couple decades.”

Ben is staggered. That’s…in Earth years, that means she was born around the time of Christ and Augustus Caesar. He remembers something his mom used to mutter when weird shit happened, a tag from Shakespeare. It seems apropos. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

But he doesn’t quote it aloud. Instead he asks, “why exactly are you giving me these things?”

“You are hungry for knowledge,” Maz says matter-of-factly. “In itself, knowledge is a good thing. If you get it honestly. When young people are prevented from getting their knowledge, they fall prey to evil people who claim to have access to secrets. Then they do more evil.”

“You look like you’re thinking of someone in particular,” Ben comments.

“Well, your grandfather is a prime example. But it has happened to many. And it will keep happening. But you are not stupid. There is a good heart in there somewhere. So I hope it does not happen to you,” Maz sighs. “Now, take your new books and go to bed. And be careful.”

“Yes, Maz,” he nods, unsure why he feels comfortable trusting this weird old—old!—lady. 

* * *

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 5, Day 5 (5.6.5.5 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Leia is just leaving yet another meeting with Bail and Kaydel when Lando Calrissian strides into the Organa townhouse in a swirl of purple cape. He smiles, eyes sparkling with delight. “Leia Naberrie Solo! Just the being I wanted to see,” he exclaims as he takes her hand and kisses it politely. 

“How have you been, Lando?” she remarks politely in return. He’s stayed on Chandrila doing some sort of business since dropping her and Luke off with their prisoners. She isn’t sure whether he and Chewie bunk in the _Millennium Falcon_ or stay at one of the nice hotels in town. 

“I was wondering if you would be interested in hearing some live music,” Lando suggests. “Hanna City is not a galactic artistic center, but there is a small supper club with really excellent jizz music.”

“Excuse me?” Leia isn’t sure she heard what she thought she heard.

“Jizz music? You know, syncopated rhythms, small combo of instruments…” Lando trails off. “I suppose they don’t have that where you’re from?”

Leia snorts. “I have no idea, I just know that where I’m from the word “jizz” doesn’t mean a kind of music.” She chortles. “Sure, what the fuck. Let’s go see some jizz music. Is it…messy?”

Lando tilts his head to the side questioningly. “Messy? Not really, unless you order the live seafood on the menu.”

Leia shakes her head. “I get the feeling this is going to be quite the evening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re American, be aware that British “taking the piss” is nothing like American “taking a piss.” It’s what we would call “pulling one's leg.”
> 
> “Jizz music” is, astoundingly, really a Star Wars canon thing. Like, George Lucas, what were you thinking dude?? I learned this from fanfiction a couple years ago. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15319920 https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Jizz/Legends


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Anakin have a chat; Mace is back; and Han's life keeps getting more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Star Wars canon timelines and galactic maps are tough to pin down. In this story, the [Liberation Day attack](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Attack_on_Chandrila) didn't happen, and we have now reached the time of the [Battle of Jakku](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Battle_of_Jakku).

_Maz Kanata’s Castle. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 6, Day 2 (5.6.6.2 ABY)_   
_Takodana/Ieldraan_

Over the last week Ben has assimilated into the crowd at Maz’s castle. Half the guests have left and been replaced by new scarred and scurrilous faces. Only one group has bothered messing with the tall, solitary human named Kylo who eats quietly in a booth while reading ancient books. That group was three heavily-armed members of Kanjiklub who followed him when he went for a run one day.

> Ben wasn’t carrying the lightsaber except when he went to practice forms, because Maz’s advice to avoid drawing attention to himself seemed wise. And trail running with a blaster pistol is a pain in the butt, though he’ll be sure to go armed in future. As things were that day, it was just him and his knife against three gangsters. 
> 
> He runs in these woods every day, so his first thought was to use the landscape to his advantage. He disappeared down a narrow rocky cleft and crawled into a dense patch of shrubbery. The gangsters ran past. In a few minutes, he heard them splitting up to search for him in different directions. When the first gangster came back his way, Ben used the Force to choke the man so he couldn’t cry for help, then clambered out of the shrubs and cut the guy’s throat. 
> 
> The second gangster was exploring the rocky defile when Ben leapt down on him from above, light as a Jedi could hope. After a brief hand-to-hand combat, he stabbed his opponent in the heart, then wiped the knife on the gangster’s clothes before sheathing it. The third gangster appeared just as Ben was standing up, and took aim with a blaster rifle. Ben deflected the plasma slightly, enough to stay safe without it being obvious that he was doing anything. The last Kanjiklub member kept cursing his aim and his weapon as Ben sprinted back to the castle.

His mom and Mon Mothma would certainly prefer that Kanjiklub members face New Republic judicial proceedings for their crimes, but that isn’t exactly practical when three of them jump you in the woods, Ben reflects as he eats his stew. Nobody has messed with him since that encounter.

Maz has gone off to do who-knows-what — smuggling weapons, in all likelihood — leaving her droids and jovial ex-pirate associates in charge of the cantina and hotel. Most of them seem to like “Kylo” okay, probably because he has promised a handsome commission to anyone who finds him a good ship to buy or a good crew to sign on with as a pilot or hired muscle.

He’s thankful for the books Maz loaned him, but it’s still heavy going. Ben stands from the table and takes the books back up to his room. He glares balefully at the deactivated droid in the corner. He’d tried turning it on once; the thing extruded two appendages from its head and started spinning in circles unexpectedly. The metal arms smashed Ben in the knees repeatedly until he turned it off again. He thinks of Rey and wishes she were here with her robotics expertise.

Speaking of Rey, where did he put those kyber crystals the other day after he was demonstrating Jedi levitation to her? He hasn’t seen them anywhere. He digs around in his rucksack just in case he put them in there and forgot about it, but the only forgotten item he finds is the old melted mask of his grandfather. 

He pulls the thing out. It feels electrified in his hands and he’s suddenly filled with the conviction that it’s time to get rid of it. But where and how? Dump it in the lake? He holds it loosely and folds himself into the lotus position, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as he tries to seek guidance in the Force.

* * *

  
_Thor’s Hall. In the Reign of Odin Allfather._   
_Asgard_

“Brother. Welcome! Where have you been?” Thor greets Loki with his usual cheer. Partly, that’s because he greets everyone that way; it’s his sunny personality as much as it is royal protocol to be polite to everyone. But in the back of his mind he also knows that being endlessly cheery grates on his brother. Loki is undoubtedly cleverer and has undoubtedly scored more points against Thor over their long fraternal relationship, so it’s the small wins that count.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Loki smirks in that infuriating way which may either mean he has been plotting and accomplishing nefarious deeds, or may mean nothing whatsoever — just that he’s trying to irk his brother. “I hear you’ve had a visitor. I am not Agent Fury’s favorite person, I’m afraid. He’s not still here, is he?”

“You could try apologizing, you know,” Thor suggests, declining to answer the question. “Stop and take a horn of mead with me?”

Loki accepts, which causes Thor’s heart to sink. The uncharacteristic bonhomie suggests it’s all the more likely that his brother has been plotting mischief.

* * *

  
_Maz Kanata’s Castle. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 6, Day 2 (5.6.6.2 ABY)_   
_Takodana/Ieldraan_

Ben wakes with a start to the feeling of something hard and heavy dropping on the bridge of his nose. “Fuck!” he yells. “Ow!” He swipes at his face and the mask skitters to the floor.

Then he groans and covers his eyes with his arm. The light is too bright and blue and how the hell did he pass out again? He thought he was past that stage of Force learning. 

“At last I found you,” Anakin’s voice says lightly. “Your grandmother won’t be pleased to hear I found you passed out on a basement floor. She’ll probably blame me, which might even be fair given what you were apparently playing with.”

At a wave of his ghostly fingers, the black mask and a lightsaber hilt that looks unfamiliar to Ben float up into the air. That’s when memories of the minutes before he passed out come back to Ben. Meditating with the helmet…leaving his room because of a compelling Force presence calling to him from Maz Kanata’s basement. Then in the basement, finding a storeroom that opened to his touch, and in it, a brass-bound trunk, and in that…this saber hilt.

“It was mine, when I was a Jedi,” Anakin explains, as if sensing Ben’s question before he even asks it. “Obi-Wan took possession of it when he left me to die, and then years later he gave it to your uncle, who had it when he faced me in combat. I cut off his hand, and it dropped with the saber. I have no idea how it ended up _here_. Or where _here_ physically is, exactly, for that matter.”

Flashes of the vision Ben had experienced when he touched the saber seep back to his mind. “When I touched that, I saw horrible things,” he says hesitantly. “Friends dying, children slaughtered…a yeti, for some reason? A building, burning. Fighting my…fighting Rey, in a snowy forest. Six heavily armed men in black masks kneeling before a creepy alien in a golden Hugh Hefner outfit? And then I guess I passed out.”

“Some Force users have an ability called psychometry, whereby they can sense the lived history of inanimate objects, especially those imbued with Force powers,” Anakin intones pompously. He sounds like he’s quoting a lesson from one of the old Jedi masters. “Has this ever happened to you when you held my helmet before?”

“Noo…I don’t think so,” Ben says slowly.

“Then you probably are not psychometric. It must just have been a vision. Are you in a physical place that is a site of much Force energy?” asks his grandfather.

“Maybe?” Ben answers. He thinks about how the castle feels from the forest when he meditates. “Yeah, probably. I really don’t want Luke to find me, though, so if you don’t know where I am, I’m not going to tell you. But you haven’t answered my question. Did any of those things sound like your past? Or are they in my future?”

“One of my fellow Force ghosts, who you may have met, Master Yoda — he likes to say _always in motion the future is_. So some of those things sound familiar to me — pick whatever sounds the worst, that was me — but they might also be in your future. Others might have been from when Luke wielded the saber. Others might never happen, depending on what choices you make.”

Ben shudders. “I think the first choice I am going to make is not touching that thing again,” he declares. He levitates both the saber hilt and the mask into the chest and slams it shut, then stands gingerly. He doesn’t know how long he was lying on that stone floor but it doesn’t feel great.

“Now, did you have something you wanted to talk to me about, or were you just here to laugh at me for passing out again?” Ben asks his grandfather’s ghost. He’s feeling a bit snippy.

“Your mother and grandmother miss you and since you’re blocking everyone we figured I had the best chance of breaking through,” Anakin shrugs.

“Well, that’s kind of them. I wish them well. They can do their thing, I’ll do my thing, and maybe in a couple months I’ll be less pissed at Uncle Luke and I’ll give them a call,” Ben states flatly.

“Bail reamed him a new one for calling you in for stealing the shuttle,” Anakin chuckles. He pauses, looking intently at his grandson. “What exactly is your thing that you are going to be doing, by the way?”

Ben answers the question with a question. “Did you know Emperor Palpatine had a son?”

The Force ghost furrows his brow. “What? How? Sheev used to always tell me I was like the son he never had. Though I suppose many of the things he told me were not strictly true. Not remotely true,” he corrects himself.

“He had a son, about Padmé’s age," Ben explains. "Erased him from the Naboo records at some point. I’m going to find out what happened to the guy and if it has anything to do with the evil that I’ve sensed coming from some of the other realms. When I have my answer, then maybe Luke and the others will believe me about the magnitude of the threat and the value of eliminating it preemptively.”

“That sounds like a lonely and difficult quest for one man. And you aren’t even a Jedi master,” Anakin objects mildly.

“That, grandfather, is exactly why I’m going to succeed,” Ben asserts, eyes blazing.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 6, Day 4 (5.6.6.4 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Mace Windu materializes above the Silver Sea, the Bifrost portal closing above him. He begins to walk calmly over the surface of the water in the direction of his friend Bail Organa’s home. He finds Luke Skywalker waiting for him on the beach.

“I was meditating and sensed when you arrived,” the younger man says. “Welcome back. Bail is waiting for you at home.”

“How are things here?” Mace asks, sensing that there’s something Luke isn’t saying.

“A lot has happened,” Luke says tersely, looking up at Master Windu with those sharp blue eyes of his. “Ben left and Leia quit Jedi training to work in politics with Bail.”

“Ben left? Hmm,” Mace frowns, his face clouded. “That I did not foresee. I will have to try to reach out to him.”

“We’ve tried, but he’s blocking all of us. We have some hope Anakin will succeed where we failed, but I haven’t seen him in a few days now.”

Mace snorts. Putting your trust in Anakin Skywalker is a gambler's move. “We’ll see what comes of that. I have updates for the Midgarders too. Let’s get back to the house.”

See Threepio welcomes them when they arrive at the townhouse. “My deepest apologies, Master Windu,” he says, bowing slightly. “The Senator and his staff have just been called away for an urgent message. They will be with you shortly. May I offer you something to drink?”

Mace accepts the offer of tea and settles on a sofa in the living room while Luke gives the whole account of the incident with the bounty hunters on Yavin IV. “We still have no idea who hired them. Ran said the client wanted to stay anonymous, claimed to be a bigwig from the Unknown Regions. Had a big enough down payment that Ran didn’t ask questions. I didn’t sense deception,” Luke finishes.

Mace shakes his head. “I haven’t been around enough in recent years to be much help to you there, Luke. I’m sure the galaxy has more shadowy figures and gangs than ever before, because it’s a time of transition. There are certainly people who can profit if the galaxy is more unstable, and killing the last Jedi would contribute to that.”

Luke opens his mouth to respond, but before he can speak his mother walks into the room. “Bail and Leia will join us in a moment,” she assures them. “Big news on the military front.” She requests tea from the kitchen droids, then seats herself next to Mace. “What news from Earth and Asgard?”

“Thor is well and sends his regards as always,” Mace says evenly. “On Earth, your finances and Ben’s are chugging along. I met one of his coworkers, a very interesting young lady.”

“Ah, Voe. Do you remember his hacker days in high school? I remember when she and Ben disappeared in Rome. I was so worried. Their friendship was good for Ben over the years, though,” Padmé smiles, recollecting. “What else?”

“Well, SHIELD is doing fantastic, but I can’t tell you anything about it, old lady,” he smirks, his one eye sparkling. “And I checked on Lor San Tekka’s death. Everything in order. Again, can’t say much.”

Bail has just entered the room, followed by Leia. “Lor San Tekka?” he asks. “Wasn’t he that weird pal of Obi-Wan’s? Lived on Jakku back in the day raising Force-sensitive kids in hiding?”

Mace nods briefly. “Yes, Obi-Wan had your rebels deliver him food a few times.”

“What a coincidence,” Bail exclaims, sharing a glance with Leia. “We just finished a call about Jakku. Ackbar is out there with a fleet because Norra Wexley found that it is where the last of the imperials have been hiding.”

“We’re hopeful we can finish off their navy,” Leia adds. 

“Force willing,” sighs Bail.

Padmé nods. “That’s exciting news. Mace has just been filling me in on the news from Earth. I owe you all an update, too. Dormé tells me that she has located one retired handmaiden on Naboo who survived the wars and remembers Palpatine having a son. According to this lady, the boy was beautiful and charming and kind and good at sports and, well, she basically couldn’t stop saying nice things about the kid. She couldn’t remember his name, and probably has some degree of dementia, so take it with a grain of salt. She also said Sheev seemed to find his son irritating and often criticized him.”

“What is this all about?” Mace asks, confused. “Since when did Sheev Palpatine have a son?”

“We just learned about it while you were away. He had been erased from the records on Naboo,” Padmé explains. “His name was Porro and he was born in 46 BBY, just like the original Padmé.”

“That is very concerning on two levels,” Mace muses, brow furrowed over his eyepatch. “First of all, that there might be another Palpatine running around out there. Though if your old lady friend is correct, we can hope the kid didn’t turn into a Sith lord. Second, what lady would have reproduced with Sheev Palpatine?” He shivers. “That guy was creepy.”

Bail and Padmé laugh, despite the seriousness of the conversation. It is an aspect of the problem they hadn’t really considered.

* * *

_London, England. 23 February 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

It’s nearing the end of the day and Han is debating whether to go straight home to whatever nutritionist-approved choices his personal chef has whipped up, or head to Artesian and ring one of the models on Solo Love to meet him for drinks. For a Monday, today was a good day. He finalised his essay for the annual report that goes out ahead of the shareholders’ meeting, and approved the design team’s mock-up of the full document. Now he has a couple weeks to practice his speech.

His mobile pings with an incoming text message. He picks it up and looks at it; it’s from an unknown number. “Important progress on the Rathtar matter, need to inform you in person. Have come to London, will send you a pin where to meet at 17:45. Tai.”

 _Well, I suppose that solves what I’m doing this evening_ , Han thinks. He’s surprised that Tai is messaging him from an unknown number, but realizes all their previous communication has gone through Miss Nest or Miss Sharest. Well, it will be good to get some clarity on the Rathtar sabotage.

When five p.m. rolls around Miss Sharest sticks her head in to bid him farewell for the night. She’s surprised he’s sticking around this evening. For many years, it’s been his habit to spend the early evening socializing and networking before returning to business matters around 9 o’clock. He gives her his patented roguish grin and she heads off home — if Han recalls correctly, to the long-time partner she just married last year when it became legal, and their herd of Yorkshire terriers to coo over.

He spends the time reading the latest reports from the Solo Galactic engineering department. This is really going to be a go, he thinks. He can’t wait to have his own space program, and it’s merely a year or two from launch. 

At 5:45 on the dot Tai sends him the pin, and Han calls his driver. The man was a London black cabbie until he put him on a retainer that was well beyond what he could hope to earn from normal fares, so he knows the city inside and out. “You sure, guvnor? Not your usual scene,” is all he says. 

“Just drive, pal,” Han smirks, and they’re on their way. If it were anything but within London proper, Han would insist on driving himself. Life has few greater pleasures than shifting through the gears on the open road in one of his extensive collection of automobiles. But driving in London, his adopted city, is just a pain in the ass.

Only ten minutes later they’re pulling up before a classic Twenties stone edifice in Bayswater. “Porchester Spa” says the plaque. Han’s never been here before. He thanks his driver and asks him to stay in the area. “Feel free to grab a bite or a pint or whatever.”

Pushing open the door to the establishment, Han finds himself in the vaguely humid antechamber to a Turkish bathing complex. He pays the fee and takes direction from the desk staff, who clearly don’t recognize him as Sir Han Solo. That is a nice change. Proceeding to the locker room, he observes that the general concept seems to be “sauna.” Dress code: towel or nude. Rather an odd place for a business meeting with his son’s older associate. A flickering question about how exactly Tai had mentored teen Ben passes through his head, but he shakes it off. Not his fucking business who or what Ben got up to. And Ben’s not the one stripping down for a meeting with the cosmopolitan hacker right now.

He’s removed his business attire now and left it in a locker, though the Patek Philippe remains on his wrist. He tightens the small white towel around his waist and stalks off to find Tai. Since he’s seen the guy once, on a Skype call, it might be hard to find him. All he knows is Tai’s shaved bald, German or Finnish or something, and about 35 years old. 

He checks his phone before stowing it in the locker, but there’s nothing. So he wanders off, exploring the monumental central staircase with its cheerful ficus tree and the various bath options. Russian, Turkish; he figures if the guy is a Finn, he’ll aim for the hottest steam bath, so Han heads there and tries to relax, leaning back on the bench and closing his eyes against the clouds of steam.

He startles alert at the sound of a loud click, and opens his eyes to see two tubby thugs snarling at him from the doorway. No sign of Tai. Han sighs, stands, and shakes out his shoulders. The thug on the right looks to be South Asian, and is brandishing his fists. The bloke on the left has close-cropped blond hair and a repulsive Nazi swastika tattoo, and is brandishing a switchblade.

“Watch it, oi!” the Nazi thug grunts, swinging in with his knife. Han ducks, thanking his lucky stars that he refrained from whisky before coming out for this meeting. _Why the hell are these guys after me_ , he wonders, as he prays his twenty-something fetish for bare-knuckle boxing will do him in good stead. 

As it turns out, either he’s damn lucky or muscle memory is a thing, because his swing connects with the assailant’s jawbone with a crunch and the guy staggers away to the side, losing his knife. Han shakes his smarting right hand and dodges a punch from the other attacker, then slams a swift left to the man’s gut. He hears loud groaning but doesn’t stick around to see if the opponents will stay down. He’s off to the entry foyer.

“Call the police,” he gasps. “Tell ‘em somebody’s here attacking Sir Han Solo.” Only then does he realise that he lost the towel sometime in his fracas. The desk employee, eyebrows raised, eyes trained somewhere decidedly below the belt, dials 999 as directed. Han smirks. For a 53-year-old, he's got a physique that's worth ogling. His smirk fades when the staffer pulls a heavy crowbar out from behind the desk in case the attackers come their way. "Best to be ready for anything," the young person shrugs.

* * *

  
 _Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 6, Day 4 (5.6.6.4 ABY)_  
 _Chandrila/Ieldraan_

The night drags on. They’re all sitting around awaiting the latest news from the battle theater in Jakku. Finally the calls start to come in. 

First is Ackbar. “It was a trap,” he asserts. “But the bravery of the allied forces saved the day. Talk to Norra. The old Emperor meant to draw us to the planet and then for it to explode. But I think we have won. Their naval fleet is decimated.”

They thank him and congratulate him, and try to connect with Norra Wexley. Eventually they find someone who can give them a line to the pilot. She’s sitting with her teenaged son when she appears.

“Wow, Senator Organa, how are you?” she says. 

“I hear you’re to be congratulated,” Bail says, smiling. “Well done, pilot. Tell us what you found on Jakku.”

Wexley sighs. “I can’t even get my head around it. Somebody in the Empire rigged the whole planet to blow. The idea was to take down our fleet with their own and put everything into chaos.”

“I’m glad they didn’t,” Padmé cuts in. “I’m so thankful for your bravery.”

Eventually the congratulations are over and they’re left in the aftermath. 

“It sounds like Palpatine is managing to strike from beyond the grave,” Luke says. “How do we know he didn’t set up dozens of booby-trapped planets like this, scattered all over the galaxy?”

“We don’t,” Leia responds matter-of-factly. “His evil is going to cast a long shadow, for a long time.”

“I’m starting to wonder if maybe Ben didn’t have the right idea,” Bail says with his quiet authority. The others turn and look at him, the elder statesman in the group. “If Palpatine had a long game involving his descendants, we need to find them. Maybe we don’t agree with Ben that we need to wipe them out without prejudice, but I think he was right to see that Palpatine’s malign influence didn’t end when he died.”

Mace hums in assent. “Let’s talk with Obi-Wan and Yoda. If we’re going to look for him, it’s going to have to be a broad search, even beyond this single realm. Palpatine got so many essential secrets during the decades when we trusted him.”

* * *

_London, England. 23 February 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Enfys Nest is just finishing up her evening mentoring session for a young aspiring solicitor when the call comes through. Han is a demanding boss, but he doesn’t usually intrude in her agreed personal hours. She takes the call.

“I need Tai on the phone, Enfys. Almost got stabbed to death in a fucking bathhouse because of a text he sent me. Please, help me get to the bottom of this.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she assures him. “Are you safe now? I can send someone from the concierge medics practice?”

“I’m good. Just figure out what the hell went wrong.” On second thought, his knuckles feel like someone dropped a piano on his hand. "Actually, maybe that's a good idea," he corrects himself. "Thanks for looking out for me, Enfys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has to thank _Eastern Promises_ and _Indiana Jones_ for some classic scenes (naked fighting! Nazi punching!) I riffed on for Han’s adventure. If you’d like to learn more about what Norra Wexley discovered on Jakku, it’s the general idea of the Observatory at the Plaintive Hand from _Aftermath: Empire’s End_ by Chuck Wendig. Not all the details are the same — obviously Leia and Han are not major players in my galaxy, Lor San Tekka’s residence on Jakku is in the past not the future, I couldn’t care less about Mon Mothma’s political rivalries, etc. Also, my obviously amateurish photoshopping is back! This time with Harrison Ford's head from the mid-90s on Harrison Ford's bod from the late 80s superimposed on the bathhouse where the scene is set. Thankfully he'll never see it lol.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can a day be both great and awful for one person? Yes, if he's Ben|Kylo...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time passes a little faster for us now. Like, a whole week in one chapter! Who ever heard of such a thing! If you are not in this for the smut, be warned there is a scene of Reylo passion. Skip from where the droid powers down to the next divider line and you won’t miss any key plot elements.

_East Berlin, Germany. 24 February 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Last night was the first time in several weeks that Heikki Tamminen allotted himself a full night of sleep actually at night, and apparently that was a mistake. When he turns his notifications back on at 6 a.m. sharp while drinking black coffee and eating buttered hardbread with sliced ham on top, his phone basically explodes. He sits down at his computer so he can pursue multiple threads at once.

He’s looking over the logs of new access to Kylo’s machine — his hack on the fan should have put an end to that, so he’s not sure what’s up — while simultaneously listening to a series of voicemails from Enfys Nest, Han Solo’s lawyer. She’s demanding an explanation for some sort of text message she seems to believe Tai sent. And one of their other clients, the central treasury of a small Central American country, is reporting an anomaly in their latest security logs that they want 5010 Group to investigate.

Luckily the next set of notifications in the queue are from Voe, who apparently handled the Solo situation. Nest had reached her, and Voe was able to confirm that the text messages in question did not, in fact, come from any of Tai’s devices. Sounds like a bad job; Solo senior had been assaulted by men with knives in a sauna where he believed he was to meet Tai. Voe teases him a bit in the last message, wondering if he is in the habit of meeting their clients in bathhouses. 

First order of business: protect the contract. Nobody in London will be awake yet, but as soon as they are he’s going to be calling both Han Solo and Enfys Nest with his deepest apologies. And advice on how not to fall for a similar (dangerous) scam in future. Second order of business: step up his investigation. Though…

That’s when it hits Tai. Nothing whatever about this assault on Han sounds like the Russians. It’s all bluster, Han wasn’t harmed in the least (though that might be luck), and there hasn’t been any chatter on the dark web. What if someone — a business associate, perhaps — is using the Russian events as a convenient cover for their own agenda? He regrets not having Kylo around to consult. The guy amassed a lot of unusual and dodgy expertise over his time in the American military.

* * *

  
 _Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 7, Day 1 (5.6.7.1 ABY)_  
 _Chandrila/Ieldraan_

“That was quite the family council yesterday,” Luke remarks as he walks along the beach with Mace. “When’s the last time you, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and my father were all in the same room together? With Bail and Padmé?”

Master Windu looks at the younger Jedi sternly. “I really do _not_ want to think about the answer to that question. Far too long.”

Luke sighs. Good point. It was entirely reasonable for Mace Windu to feel ambivalent—or worse—about Anakin Skywalker.

“We have an important task, now,” Mace says, changing the subject. “Remind me which of the realms you're traveling to first?”

The assembled Jedi, after the discovery of Palpatine’s Observatory on Jakku, have decided to travel to each of the ten realms in search of signs of Sith corruption that might indicate a continued presence of the Emperor’s Force signature or his descendants. The logistics of the search are mind-boggling. In an ideal world, Thor and other Asgardians would conduct the search; but the Thunderer’s relationship with his father is on thin ice right now, and he’d assured Mace on his recent visit that he is stuck sitting put for the foreseeable future. Mace is not about to ask Loki for help, that’s for sure.

Next best is to travel to the realms via wayfinder. But only a living Jedi can accomplish this, and most of the collaborators have the misfortune to be Force ghosts. The Force ghosts can project, but only to worlds with lower Force intensity levels than their homeworlds. Mace and Luke, therefore, are taking wayfinder holocrons and traveling to the most Force-sensitive worlds. Luke is to explore Nidavellir, home of the dwarves. Mace will travel to Grønnalfheim, which has the advantage of a timeline that passes some twenty times slower than Ieldraan’s, so he won’t age himself as much as when he goes to work on Midgard.

“I’m going to Nidavellir first. I’ve never actually left Ieldraan. Can you show me how to activate the holocron?” Luke asks. It boggles his mind that Mace spent the last 20-odd years hanging around with Padmé, Leia, and Ben without ever trying to find out if Leia or Ben were Force sensitive and trainable as Jedi. Though if Master Windu had trained them, Luke knows he would probably be jealous of their access to a Master from the old Jedi council. Oh well, no matter. Now it's Luke's turn to learn something from the great man.

“No problem,” Mace answers. He sees it as one of his essential duties as a Jedi Master and Realm Protector to ensure that powerful relics are used properly. When the untrained try to use them, who knows what the hell would happen.

* * *

 _Maz Kanata’s Castle. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 7, Day 2 (5.6.7.2 ABY)_  
 _Takodana/Ieldraan_

Another week has passed and Ben’s starting to feel like it’s time to move on. Maz hasn’t returned. Rumor has it she wasn’t smuggling at all, but was participating in some sort of grand battle against the last of the imperial forces, which had amassed at a planet called Jakku.

Absent her advice Ben has started to be more vocal about his availability as a pilot. He is up in his room now, fiddling with the broken droid. He’ll be a much more effective pilot in this galaxy he knows so little about if he has a functioning astromech.

He silently thanks the Force when the sounds in the room go dim and Rey materializes across from him. 

“Ben!” she exclaims. It’s nice to hear his real name, especially in her voice. Around Takodana he only hears “Kylo.”

“God I’m glad to see you, Rey,” he gushes, smiling. “It’s felt a lot longer than eight days. I wish we hadn’t gotten separated.”

Rey blushes as she remembers him disappearing on Valentine’s. “Eight days? No, it’s been more than two weeks,” she says in confusion, before remembering he’d said time passes differently where he is. The whole thing is a mind fuck, but he’s so real under her touch as she walks over and gives him a warm hug. She’s tried to avoid thinking about it because it’s so insane, but maybe he’s right. Maybe there really is more to the universe than she had imagined. Maybe there’s more to _her_.

“You major in robotics, right? Can you help me figure out this busted robot?” Ben’s question draws her out of her reverie.

He puts his hand down on the flat top of the cylindrical droid, hoping that will make it visible to the young woman. Anything to keep her interested, keep her here.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she comments, and gets to work. She does, of course, try turning it on, only to repeatedly dodge the spinning, pummeling appendages. The thing squawks aggrievedly. “Ah. See what you mean. Do you know how to translate its language?” Rey asks.

“Language?” Ben asks, flummoxed. Astromechs didn’t have a language, really, did they? He thinks back and realizes that Luke routinely responded to Artoo’s beeping as if it were a language.

“I don’t,” he admits. “But maybe there’s something in my datapad.” He grabs it from a table and starts tapping around, looking for the translation resources Artoo had uploaded for him. He folds himself onto the floor next to Rey where she crouches, fiddling with a panel on the droid. It’s powered on, but apparently likes her better than him, because it’s no longer spinning around violently. 

When Ben sits down the robot suddenly grabs the datapad in one of its appendages and waves it above its head, squawking loudly.

“Ok, ok, buddy,” Rey says calmly. “Just don’t break it.”

The droid pops open one of the slim horizontal ports on its front and shoves the end of the datapad into it, which apparently activates some sort of interface. Aurebesh text starts to scroll across the screen of the datapad. 

“You don’t happen to be able to read this, do you?” Rey asks, turning to Ben. 

He looks at the text. “I can…slowly.” The droid seems to register what he says, because the speed of the text ratchets down as he reads. “It says its designation is C1-10P and people call him Chopper. He wants to know where his crew is and what happened since he was abducted on Corellia. He also has some instructions about fixing him…something about the gyroscopic stabilizers?”

“That must be locomotor related,” Rey muses. “All right, little guy, I’m going to flip you on your back so I can get at that apparatus, ok?” She’s hefted the robot off his “feet” before Ben can even offer to help. Then she winces, rolling her shoulders and putting her hands on her hips. “Oof. You couldn’t have traveled to a low-gravity planet, could you?”

Ben chuckles. “Sorry. I can try to work on your back while you work on Chopper here?” He places his hands gently on her shoulders as she nods. 

“MMA this week was rough enough on my shoulder without lifting this guy,” Rey mentions. Now that Ben’s warm hands are on her, the bedroom in Somerville fades away and she’s immersed in his surroundings again. It makes it easier to work with the robot, except that Ben’s touch is so distracting. Each press of his long fingers sends shivers down her spine.

Ben asks Chopper about his crew and reads the output messages while Rey tinkers. The droid appears wary of strangers and won’t give the names of the people he wants to get back to. Ben sighs.

“Look, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me who they are. But I do need an astromech, and maybe we’ll go someplace where you can find news from someone you trust? Or you can…grow to trust me?”

Chopper beeps and flails in annoyance, looking for all the world like an upended turtle as Rey works on his innards and Ben works on Rey’s shoulders. 

“Ok, ok,” Ben answers, peeking over her shoulder. “Maybe we have shared friends? Do you know Senator Bail Organa? Artoo Detoo and See Threepio? Lando Calrissian and Chewbacca?”

Chopper lets out a gleeful whistle for Bail and Artoo, but his commentary on Lando is a sarcastic raspberry.

“Great, so we both know Bail and Artoo. You can help me learn to get around for a few weeks, and then I can help you find your people — or send you to Bail if you can’t tell me your people’s names.”

Chopper squawks what is probably an affirmative. They have a deal. (He thinks.) Ben’s hands have massaged Rey’s upper and middle back and he’s now kneading her lumbar region. She moans as he pushes into a particularly tough knot. The sound sends ripples of desire through him right to his groin. He leans forward almost close enough to bury his nose in her hair.

Chopper makes another raspberry noise, then lets out what sounds like a wolf whistle. Ben reads the slowly scrolling Aurebesh to see if he should respond. “I’m going on standby,” it says. “You’re making that face like how my old captains used to look at each other.” Then Ben *thinks* the last line says “If neither humanoid has tentacles I’m not going to bother watching,” but he’s not 100% sure of the meaning of “lekku.” He flushes as the droid makes good his word and powers off. 

“Hey!” Rey exclaims. “What did I do?” She pokes frantically in the droid’s innards. 

“It’s okay,” Ben assures her, stroking a firm touch with his palms down the outside of her upper arms. “He decided to power down to give us some privacy.”

“Privacy?” Rey looks up at him over her shoulder, noticing how his pupils are blown wide. “Ah,” she says, her eyes flicking down and nervously taking in the large bulge in Ben’s loose pants where he sits behind her stroking her back. “I see.”

Ben stands from the floor and offers her his hand. “I hope that’s okay. I’ve been wanting…ever since Halloween…I feel like we left some unfinished business. And then I got so caught up in my family shit.”

Rey takes his hand and stands in front of him. He pulls her hips to him, leaning over her as she looks up at his face. “I was so drunk that night,” Rey begins, only to feel Ben start to pull away. “No, no,” she exclaims, pulling him back to press against her. “I don’t regret a thing, I just never could remember why you left. So I thought maybe you didn’t like me.”

“No, I definitely like you,” Ben exclaims. “I left because Nonna got a call I had to take. And when I came back you were passed out, and then in the morning I had to go see Nonna in the hospital.”

“It’s not just because the Force thing you were talking about is connecting us, is it? Like, this would be really awkward if one of us was seeing someone else. But that’s not a reason to start seeing one another…” Rey trails off.

“God, Rey, of course not. I was already thinking about you a shit ton before this started happening. And if you want to see someone else I will try to go away when we randomly connect?” Ben’s hesitance shows through.

“No, I don’t. Want to see someone else. I want you,” Rey rises onto her tiptoes to kiss him hesitantly, but his response is anything but hesitant. It’s positively voracious. Ben plunges his tongue hungrily into her mouth, gripping her hair with one hand and her butt with the other. 

It doesn’t take very long for this to become uncomfortable while standing, because of their height differences. But it’s as if Ben can read her mind; he grips her thighs with both hands and hefts her up to lock around his waist. Rey squeaks as she leaves the ground suddenly. 

Ben smirks, then turns, walks a couple paces, and dumps her on the bed, the surroundings flickering between Takodana and Somerville as they lose and make contact. He crawls up over her, looking down intently into her eyes. “I don’t know why I ever thought you were just some nobody college chick,” he sighs, shaking his head. The sensation of touching her is addictive. It's like they fit perfectly together, like puzzle pieces, if fitting puzzle pieces together connected an electrical circuit.

Rey huffs. “I may not have a billionaire dad or a Hollywood mom who is from another planet, but I could submit you in seconds, so watch who you disparage, buddy.” She stares up into his golden brown eyes defiantly. Rey's always found him simultaneously odd and attractive, but her hesitance from the first year they were housemates has evaporated and been replaced by a hunger for his touch, his gaze. She just isn't going to admit it. Yet.

Ben snorts. “It could be fun to see you try, sweetheart. But I’d rather just make you feel good today, okay?” He looks honestly like a puppy dog as he scoots down the bed, so Rey tries to banish her inner wildcat and worry about proving she kicks ass later. Ben has pushed her t-shirt up, exposing her taut abdomen, and he’s gently drawing a finger under the waistband of her lounge pants. “Can I take these off?” he asks.

“Please,” Rey assents. Ben draws the pants off her gently, then adjusts himself in his own pants before returning his attention to her body. He draws one thumb lazily up and down the thoroughly damp crotch of her panties. Rey moans “please” again, and he pulls the panties to the side, exposing her cunt to the cool air of the room. 

Ben is awed by her glistening arousal, his eyes captivated as he leans in to pepper kisses up her inner thighs, closer and closer to where she obviously needs him. She smells sweet and rich, and he darts his tongue out to taste her as he nuzzles her clitoris with his nose. “Ugh, yes,” Rey cries semi-coherently. He pauses to rip the panties down her legs and throw them someplace across the room, giving himself space to go about pleasuring her with just his mouth. 

Minutes pass as he builds her to her crescendo gradually, occasionally reaching up to tweak her nipples through her bralette, inducing a powerful clench from Rey. He inserts first one, then a second finger inside her, which she fucks herself onto enthusiastically whenever he lets up on the pressure keeping her hips still. She’s gorgeous, he thinks as she pants and writhes beneath his tongue. 

Eventually he can’t take his own painful arousal anymore. He withdraws his fingers from her sopping channel and reaches into his pants to pull his cock out, smearing himself with her juices. He strokes himself firmly a few times, then takes a deep breath and returns his fingers to their rightful place in her tight cunt. Rey moans aloud as he drags his fingertips across just the right spot, his thumb circling her clit rapidly. Before either of them knows what’s happening she’s trembling and orgasming violently. 

Ben lets her ride out the aftershock on his fingers, then draws them out and licks them clean while she lies there spread out and panting, one hand clutching the sheets. Rey raises an eyebrow at how much he seems to enjoy her taste, but then tries to refocus on bringing him pleasure, too. He lies down next to her, pants haphazardly around his thighs, as she grasps his erect manhood with powerful, slim, calloused fingers. She watches the light shifting in his eyes as he thrusts into her hand. When he comes a minute later it’s with a loud moan. He grasps her by the waist and pulls her close, sticky mess be damned. Her lovely hair fits right under his chin and he hooks his leg over hers to keep her as near as humanly possible for as long as this Force event lasts.

“I don’t know how this is possible,” Rey murmurs into his tshirt. “But I quite enjoyed it.”  


* * *

  
_The Night Buzzard, near Ponemah. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 7, Day 2 (5.6.7.2 ABY)_   
_Outer Rim Territories/Ieldraan_

“It’s a comm from the boss,” grunts Vicrul. “Urgent.”

Ren nods curtly, standing stiffly from where he had been crouched in the engine compartment working on maintenance to the old repurposed flying brig. “Thanks.” He doesn’t sound overflowing with gratitude, but then who would when they’re called on the carpet? The jobs from the creepy Force user who’s been their employer in recent months pay well, but come with an expectation of ruthless excellence that is hard to meet. No matter how effectively they performed the last job, Ren can expect a certain amount of psychological or physical torture. Luckily he can handle it.

He goes to the comm and shuts the door behind himself, kneeling before the large hologram. Here on the ship it’s just Lord Snoke’s face, decayed and full of malice. Ren dips his head. “Yes, Master.”

“I have new orders for you,” hisses the hologram. His voice somehow makes Ren think of flesh overwhelmed with maggots, of being crushed to death by a fallen fragment of glacier. The hatred and disgust fuel Ren’s darkness and his power. He likes working for this mysterious Master.

“Your order is our command, Master,” he responds when Snoke says nothing further. The creepy old alien looks at him as if he’s looking through him, even across the great distance that separates them. To the best of Ren’s knowledge, Lord Snoke is an ancient king from the Unknown Regions or Wild Space, somewhere outside the reach of the old Galactic Empire.

“Travel to Takodana in the Tashtor Sector. I have felt a great outburst of energy there. You will likely find a Force user of great power. I want them brought in. Ideally as an ally, but if not, then as a captive or a trophy,” Snoke snarls. “Do not fail to collect also any Sith or Jedi relics in their possession. Be always alert for any traces of Aether that you can collect for my grand design.”

Ren makes an even deeper obeisance. “Yes, Master. We shall not fail you.”

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. March 2, 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey wakes at the godawful hour of 2 a.m. only to find herself alone and the bedroom lights blazing. Her panties are nowhere to be found, but there’s something warm blossoming in her heart. She slips on fresh underwear and pajama pants and slips downstairs to silently brush her teeth before going back to bed.

There’s a big smile on her face when she thinks of Ben, and her pussy clenches involuntarily when she thinks about how they pleasured one another. But then she frowns. It’s not like her experiences of dating in high school and freshman year in college, where she could text the guy to keep reinforcing the connection. 

She has literally zero control over when she will see Ben again. It’s almost enough to turn the delight to anger, the joy to tears. But as she told Ben, she’s strong. She sighs and puts it out of her head, rolling onto her side and hugging the pillow. 

Before long she’s fast asleep.

* * *

  
_Maz Kanata’s Castle. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 7, Day 3 (5.6.7.3 ABY)_   
_Takodana/Ieldraan_

Ben is having a fucking great day. He woke without Rey, yes, but that was to be expected given they aren’t in the same realm. He has a lot of good recollections to file away from last night, though.

He doesn’t know if it’s because it’s been so long since he was with a woman or if it’s something in the air on Takodana, but he feels mad energized. He ate a huge breakfast, smiled at all the gruff pirates, clapped some people on the back. Made jokes with Chopper when the droid powered on. (Even if he gets a feeling most of the jokes were on him.)

Now he’s taken his lightsaber and headed for his clearing in the woods. He’s practicing his forms, dancing a complicated series of deadly blows without ever harming the flora that surrounds him. He feels the power of Takodana, its plants and animals and people and the weird Force nexus the castle seems to be built upon, now hosting his grandfather’s Jedi saber hilt and Sith helmet nestled together in their little box. 

He finishes his saber forms and sits for meditation, levitating forest rocks and felled trunks while reaching out his senses. After a while, though, he senses something disturbing. There’s a dark, roiling presence of evil. And it’s approaching the planet. Ben’s eyes flash open and he leaps to his feet. If the Force tells him truly, Takodana may be about to be attacked.

Ben rushes through the woods at his best trail-running pace, the saber hilt flapping where it hangs from his belt. When he bursts out of the forest near the castle, he sees an intimidating black ship touch down. At least it’s only one ship; that’s something. The access ramp shoots open with a hiss and the ship begins to disgorge its passengers. 

Ben watches with an increasing feeling of dread and horror. For one thing, the men — well, humanoids, but they certainly seem like men based on their build — are mostly Force sensitive and give off very negative signatures shot through with foul deeds. For another, they look frighteningly similar to the black-clad warriors from Ben’s vision, the vision that he hoped would never come to fruition. There are exactly six men dressed in black, with black helmets and massive arsenals of weaponry. 

When the seventh man descends the ramp, Ben is somewhat relieved to see that it isn’t the creepy gold-clad alien from his vision. It’s just another man, one who appears quite proud of his own physique. He wears no shirt, just leather pants and a pale silver, eyeless helmet slashed with a red sigil. It is somehow reminiscent of Jason’s hockey mask. His Force signature likewise broadcasts his affinity to the darkness, but in him it is a controlled simmer rather than the jagged slashes of the other masked figures. This one is a worthy adversary, Ben thinks.

Ben stalks further out of the woods. If these men are here for a fight, they’ll see him. If they’re just normal hotel visitors, they’ll make their way to the castle.

It’s only moments before the leader gestures toward Ben where he stands in the distance. The other six assemble into a lax formation and traipse in his direction.

The silver-masked leader speaks first. “Our master sensed you. Join us and submit to him, or be destroyed.” He folds thickly-muscled forearms across his scarred chest, awaiting Ben’s answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Voyeur!C1-10P (just kidding...I think)  
> “Ren” here is not Ben Solo a.k.a. Kylo, in case anyone was confused. Ren is based off the character Ren from Charles Soule’s _Rise of Kylo Ren_ series earlier this year.  
> Also, I don't normally do playlists. But I've been stuck on two tunes by Röyksopp for some reason while writing Act 3. If you want to check them out, I think I probably feel [this one is the Ben song](https://youtu.be/oQT5RPk5UMU) and [this one is the Rey song.](https://youtu.be/ADBKdSCbmiM)


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Han face unanticipated adversaries, on different realms, with differing results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very focused on just two characters. It's also a bit more violent in the classic Star Wars dismemberment-by-lightsaber style. Nothing gorier than the films.

_By the shores of Lake Nymeve. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 7, Day 3 (5.6.7.3 ABY)_   
_Takodana/Ieldraan_

“Such a polite greeting,” Ben mocks. “How about you try again, _nicely_?” While he speaks, he takes a few steps backwards toward the woods. There he can count on a terrain advantage, whereas in the open he would be stupid to face off against seven opponents at once. The "unconventional warfare" training he got in the SEALs ensures he's not going to do something stupid.

One of the black-masked fighters doesn’t like his tone, apparently, because they charge violently, brandishing a crackling vibrocleaver. Ben ducks, then ignites his chill blue lightsaber. No use trying to keep his Jedi training a secret when he's so outnumbered; he’s going to use all the tools at his disposal. The masked assailant turns and swipes back at him, but Ben nicks him in the leg and the man stumbles. That gives enough space for Ben to move further into the woods.

He turns on his heel and sprints again, feeling a bit winded from the fact he already completed his workout and ran out of the woods in the first place. But it’s essential to put some distance between himself and the seven enemies — or six if he injured the first one enough to prevent him tracking him into the woods. Occasional bursts of laser fire pepper the foliage around him, but he’s moving through obstructed terrain so he doesn’t have much to worry about from a sniper yet. 

Ben draws on the Force to energize his sprinting. He can sense that he’s opening some distance from the men, who have fanned out across a wide expanse of the forest to stalk him. Presumably they’re trying to prevent him from flanking them and escaping back to the castle. He pauses behind a large, moss-covered boulder. None of the Force-sensitives are masking their presence, except the leader who’s doing it imperfectly. He wonders how trained they are, if they even know how to use their powers. He strives to tamp down his own signature and runs off at an oblique heading deeper into the forest from the boulder.

Eventually Ben senses that he’s gotten out toward the edge of the line of pursuers. He knows he’s not silent when he runs through the underbrush, but he’s going to have to be silent and invisible if he wants to sneak past. At least now he’s only near to about two of them instead of all seven. He pauses in a great cleft rent into the side of one of the mossy boulders that litter the forest. He hears the rustling of some kind of lizard as it snaps up an insect not far from his head, and, overhead, the cry of a convor.

 _That’s it_ , Ben thinks. He needs a distraction, and these guys don’t seem likely to be the weak-minded sort he can deceive with a feigned noise in the force like he did with the bounty hunters on Yavin IV. But animals…Luke had him try to influence animal behavior, back when they were training on Yavin IV, with not-great results. Now the stakes are higher. Time to do some on-the-spot learning.

He reaches out, trying to discern the life-forces of the animals in the dark forest around him. He senses at least two convorees in a very tall tree just over a spot where the farthest-flung dark warrior has halted for some reason. Ben reaches out to the birds in the Force. They don’t feel anything like the human minds he’s influenced in the past. He tries to communicate soothing thoughts to them so they’ll listen to him, but it doesn’t feel like he’s making a connection.

 _Oh, fuck it_ , he thinks. He instead shoves upset and fear and indignation toward the poor birds. _There’s someone under you who IS danger_ , he tries to communicate. _Poop on his head or something._

A broad grin spreads over his face when he sees a flash of movement high in that great tree, towering over the rest of the woods. Two birds flap out and seem to divebomb. He takes this as his opportunity, and swiftly crawls through the undergrowth until he’s only 35 meters or so away from the tree and the great rocky outcropping at its base. If he had to guess, he’d say the fighter on top of it, who is angrily swatting an owl-like bird away from pecking at his helmet, is a sniper. There looks to be a long-range blaster rifle sitting cradled in a tripod. The birds are doing a marvelous job of distracting the man, far better than Ben could have asked for. 

So he reaches out again in the Force, this time envisioning the rifle, its smooth, hard casing. He imagines the Force pushing it apart, straining it, rending a fissure in the key safety systems. Then he has to put his arm down and duck because the man has finally chased the two convorees off and is taking aim with his weapon again. And if Ben had to guess, he’d guess the rifle was aiming right at him. His heart is in his throat as he waits to discover whether his sabotage in the Force had any effect. 

The answer is a resounding yes. As the black-clad sniper takes aim and fires, a bright light explodes from his weapon, knocking him to the ground. The gun bursts into several pieces. Ben takes his chance and charges directly for the rock where the man is struggling to get up. The stunned sniper has just gotten to his feet and pulled out a large electrified machete and a blaster pistol, but he’s too late to defend himself from Ben Solo. The erstwhile Jedi trainee ignites his lightsaber and swiftly slashes his opponent in two. There's an anguished cry, a thud, and then nothing.

Ben’s at the end of the line of attackers and he’s just taken one down. He might just be able to flank them and get back to the castle. Carefully avoiding the mangled body at his feet, he leaps down from the boulder and starts to run for the edge of the woods. He senses one of the assailants running toward him and three more milling around farther off, but he can’t pin down where exactly the silver-helmed leader is, nor the man whose leg he injured earlier.

Ben senses before he sees the flash of the giant club whooshing toward his head. He dodges fluidly despite his growing exhaustion, and ignites his saber again. He slashes at the assailant’s body, noting that the man has a variety of explosives strapped to his chest. If Ben hits one of those, will they both go up in smoke? He’ll have to be careful. 

He takes his saber in two hands and crouches in a defensive posture, ducking and swaying as the dark figure attempts once again to get in range with the club. Ben can feel in the Force that the other thugs are closing in, so he’s got to finish this fight quick. He closes his eyes, feeling the Force flow through him. He knows when the attacker swings the club, and just as he does so Ben ducks into a roll, extinguishing his saber. 

He pops up again just beyond and to the left of his opponent. Reignites the saber. Opens his eyes. And with a chef’s finesse, divests the attacker of his dominant arm. 

The black-clad figure screams as his arm and club thunder to the ground of the forest. He grabs his shoulder stump, not noticing as Ben once again extinguishes his saber and sprints for the edge of the forest. Hopefully there’s still time to flank the other assailants and get back to the castle.

But when Ben reaches the field and emerges into the light of day, his hopes are dashed. There, standing ten meters before him, is the silver-masked leader of the gang. Some ways behind him, seated on a rock and cradling a blaster rifle loosely, is the fighter whose leg Ben had injured initially. They stare at him in an unsettling way, unsettling because he can’t see any of their features through the masks. 

“So, we meet again,” says the ringleader. “Let me say this to you one more time. I’ll talk slower so you can be sure to understand me. _You are coming with us_.”

Ben can feel that the man is trying to imbue the words with Force persuasion, but it’s laughably inadequate against Ben’s superior training. Or is it simply his raw power? What sets him apart from these weaker dark Force users? Best not get too distracted by pride, though, Ben realizes. The other fighters have encircled him from behind, emerging from the edge of the wood, and the shirtless guy is still talking.

“Our master demands that you submit to him or be destroyed. Which is it gonna be?”

Ben knows his chances are not ideal when surrounded by…he senses five hostiles, the armless guy must not have rejoined the hunt. But he’s not giving up without a fight, and the more of them he can take down the better. 

He grins, opening his arms in a wide shrug. “How about neither? We started 7-on-1 and we’re down to 5-on-1. I thinking I’m liking my odds.” 

Ben ignites his saber. 

* * *

  
_London, England. 3 March 2015._   
_Earth/Midgard_

Tomorrow is show time. Han stands and stretches, feeling well prepared. The annual presentation to the board and investors is going to be his first public reveal of the Solo Galactic concept. It’s going to be incredible. For now, he’s going to head home for a healthy meal and a good rest.

His phone buzzes. Tai. The actual one, whose number he now has programmed in. “What’s up,” he asks, answering. 

“Hello, Mr. Solo,” Tai says. “I have followed up the facial recognition scan on the video feed of the bathhouse attackers and the man who’s been lurking outside your home and office. Do you have a moment to hear what I’ve found?”

“Sure, shoot, pal,” Han says, sitting back down with a sigh. 

“We have names for all three, plus full identities — bank account statements, telephone records, online handles, gang affiliations, everything. Each man made a large cash deposit into his account sometime in the last two months.”

“Go on,” Han says impatiently. “Who paid them?” 

“That is the frustrating part,” Tai admits, clearing his throat. “There’s no evidence whatever. They were paid in cash, and haven’t communicated with any employer in this matter. Not by email, phone, or text. Not on the dark web. It must have been someone they met in person.”

“There’s security cameras every three feet in this city,” Han grumbles. “Can you track down who all they met with?”

“That would take ages, Mr. Solo,” Tai explains. “Even with AI assisting the facial recognition. And it wouldn’t help any time the men went into a building that wasn’t full of cameras.”

“Fuck,” Han groans. “Don’t suppose we could ask them who hired them?”

Tai laughs, but it’s a nervous laugh. “My understanding was you wish to keep the Metropolitan Police out of it, no? The story would be not so good for your image?”

“You understood right,” Han sighs. He paid that desk worker at the spa 300 quid to keep their mouth shut, and it seemed to be working. “Getting assaulted in a bath house isn’t on brand, so to speak. Any way other than the police to ask the guys?”

Tai swallows hard. “Well, 5010 Group is not technically in the business of arrests or…interviewing criminal suspects.”

“Technically,” Han says flatly. Yeah, he heard what he thinks he heard. “So can you or not? I’d pay a shit ton to know who hired these assholes.”

“Well, actually…” Tai trails off. “We have interviewed one or two in the past. Voe is not bad at bringing guys in. But when it come to getting the questions answered, that is not going to happen without Kylo here. Without, um, your son, sir.”

Han feels something sinking in his stomach. “You saying he’s, like, the muscle?”

Tai sighs. “Look, we don’t actually beat them up or anything. But he sure knows how to create the right…atmosphere. He can be pretty fucking scary, you know? The people…they don’t know who we are or why we’re asking questions, but they look at him and they get a bad idea.”

Han’s silent for a minute. “Thanks, Tai,” he eventually says. “Just send me the names or whatever. I’ll let you know if I ever follow it up with the police and need the rest of the dossier.”

“Sure thing. Good night then,” Tai ends the conversation politely.

* * *

  
_By the shores of Lake Nymeve. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 7, Day 3 (5.6.7.3 ABY)_   
_Takodana/Ieldraan_

As Ben ignites his saber he senses motion to his right. While he’s been talking, one of the men has flanked him. It’s the guy with the most fucked-up mask, which looks like a skull with a big hole in the forehead for some reason. Ben spins and charges the guy, slashing violently with his bright blue saber. He’s surprised when his opponent blocks with some kind of axe — and the saber doesn’t slice right through the weapon. Instead, they slide against one another as if the axe were another lightsaber. Strange. There must be types of metal that can resist plasma blades, Ben realizes. 

Well, he’ll just have to rely on the Force, then. As he thinks that, he senses ranged projectiles coming at him from behind, so he extinguishes his saber, destabilizing the blade lock he’s in with the creepy-masked guy. He ducks past him, throwing an arm out to manipulate the plasma bolts in the Force, but he’s a little too late. One of the bolts hits him in the left shoulder, while another strikes the axe-wielder’s side.

 _Hm, maybe there is an advantage to being surrounded by enemies if they’re dumb enough to use ranged weapons when their own allies are on the other side of the circle_ , Ben thinks. But he’s not encircled anymore, not since he broke out past the axe guy’s grip. He winces at the pain in his left shoulder, then takes a deep breath, trying to stay focused on the moment. The ringleader has apparently had enough of his followers’ incompetency, because he’s approaching Ben himself — and igniting a saber. Its blade is bright red. Ben hasn’t seen a Sith saber before, though he’s read about them.

“A Sith, huh?” he calls out. “I thought you guys were extinct. Well, I suppose I can correct that quickly,” he smirks, planting a boot in the gut of the axe dude before charging back toward the leader. He lifts his red blade in defense and the blades cross, purpling Ben’s vision fascinatingly.

“I’m no Sith,” the man says boldly. “There are a lot of things you need to learn about the galaxy, my man,” he grunts, slashing at Ben in a flurry of blows. Ben feels the darkness of the Force swirling around them, and he can sense that fighting against this man is a significantly different matter than sparring Uncle Luke. He narrows his eyes.

“Unfortunately you’re not going to be the one to teach me them,” Ben taunts, striking a glancing blow to the man’s unprotected ribs. 

The leader hisses in pain behind his silver-and-red mask, but Ben is shocked when he proceeds to punch himself in the ribs right on the smoking gash left by Ben’s blade. “Darkness, power me!” the man cries. Ben takes a defensive posture, circling his opponent.

The ranged fighter seems to have found a new vantage point because he’s shooting at Ben again, this time managing not to create friendly fire. Ben shifts his saber, blocking the bolts and sending one of them careening off to hit the scythe of one of the remaining dark, silent fighters who stand behind the leader. 

Ben closes his eyes and reaches out to the darkness of the silver-masked man. He senses the moment that the man runs toward him with a great leap, and when he does, Ben focuses all his powers to hold his opponent suspended in midair. The dark Force user struggles with his own Force powers, but can’t break free. 

When the ranged fighter sees his leader struggling in midair, grasping at his throat and gurgling, he throws down his arm cannon. “Put him down,” he calls through his flat black faceplate, his voice echoing inhumanly. “We’ll let you go. Just let Ren down. Knights, we are beaten. Lay down your arms.”

There’s some grumbling, but they do as their fellow “Knight” urges, placing their weapons on the ground and retreating a few paces.

“I don’t think I trust you, or him,” Ben grits through clenched teeth, indicating “Ren” with his head. 

“I don’t think you can do that forever,” the spokesman of the “Knights” group retorts. “Here, we’ll start walking back to our ship.”

They retreat slowly, backing toward their ship, keeping their eyes on Ben. His arms are starting to shake with the strain as he concentrates in the Force on restraining the silver-masked man, keeping him suspended and choking but not killing the guy outright. He nods, and lets the man fall, pushing the suggestion of sleep into his mind. It’s a strange and screwy mind, but Ben doesn’t have time to explore. “Nice meeting you all,” he smirks at the Knights as they rush to aid their fallen leader. 

The ranged fighter watches Ben recede into the distance as he runs back to the castle. “Snoke will not be pleased,” he remarks to no one in particular.

* * *

  
_London, England. 4 March 2015._   
_Earth/Midgard_

Solo Group annual meetings always open with a well-catered brunch for the executives and the board of directors, followed by the executive session. This is where they review any sensitive internal matters such as union contracts and executive compensation packages; the public meeting in the afternoon is Han’s opportunity to put his showmanship to good effect as he wows the assembled shareholders with glowing financial returns and exciting plans for the future.

The brunch was delicious as always but there’s some kind of current in the air that Han doesn’t like. Beckett is avoiding him — still probably pissed off about the way their last conversation about the Rathtar holdings ended. 

Most of the executive team is not invited into the executive session, so it’s just Han, the directors, and Enfys Nest, who as General Counsel advises the board on contractual matters. This year several of the execs have their compensation up for review and there’s a new airline workers' union contract for final approval.

Dryden Vos, the board chair, calls the executive session to order. Han expects to provide the usual overview of the executive pay packages—this time for his COO, CMO, and the Diversity and Inclusion Officer. The board tends to rubber-stamp these, though Vos sometimes grumbles when the packages for women are as high as they would be for a similarly qualified male candidate. 

Han’s preparing to speak and is thrown for a loop when Vos continues talking after the customary Robert’s Rules opening.

“We have an important matter to consider today, and because it will have such an effect on Solo Group as a whole, potentially affecting even the contracts we planned to discuss, we will discuss this matter first. We have been asked to consider a motion to request the resignation of our CEO,” Vos declaims.

Han has been listening attentively because it’s so rare for Vos to make any opening remarks, but there’s no way he can be prepared to hear _this_. “That’s ridiculous!” he exclaims, though he’s not laughing. “It’s called Solo Group for a reason, Dryden. This is my company, and it needs my vision in order to succeed. But whatever,” he sighs and gestures graciously for Vos to continue. “Let’s hear this malarkey and then we can get to the real business.”

Vos looks at him irritatedly over the top of his gold-rimmed reading glasses. “This may be your company, but this is my meeting, _Sir Han_ ,” he says, none-too-subtly reminding Han that technically Vos is a Lord and shouldn’t be addressed directly as “Dryden.” Like Han could give a shit. “So. Tobias, let’s hear the motion.”

Han can feel his blood boiling, but Enfys Nest, who is seated obliquely behind him, away from the table, reaches out and grips his elbow. Somehow it’s all the reminder he needs to conduct himself professionally in the strained circumstances. Still, he can scowl at Beckett.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Beckett drawls, seemingly oblivious to the fact there’s only one lady in the room (Dame Qi’ra Bingley, the one woman on the board of directors, has come down with a sudden and intense case of food poisoning, necessitating her absence from the meeting). “You are all aware of the circumstances. I’m just proposing the necessary response. It is a difficult response, but we’re in difficult circumstances. Since Sir Han’s ill-advised, maverick, obstinate decision to purchase the Rathtar oilfields, our conglomerate has suffered from employee deaths, loss of reputation, hits to stock prices, and poor international relations with the Russian partners who control our pipeline routes. Sir Han ignored all these signs, and from what I hear, he even ignored an attempt on his life. Now, he may call that brave,” Beckett paused for effect, “but I call it _foolhardy_. Now, you tell me, folks. Do you want to be assassinated or bankrupted just because the CEO has a level of risk-seeking that is frankly lunatic? Personally, I don’t. I think we need a more solid direction. We need to demand Sir Han Solo resign.” Beckett nods in that self-satisfied way of his and takes his seat.

There’s murmuring around the table as various members of the board chatter nervously with one another. “I believe the appropriate next step in Robert's Rules would be to state the motion, and then we can open the floor for amendments or discussion,” Enfys Nest points out, since Dryden Vos is just smirking from his seat at the head of the table rather than controlling the room.

“Quite so,” Vos assents. “Tobias?”

Beckett lays out his motion and Vos opens the floor for discussion. Han speaks up immediately. “This is garbage. Solo Group has gotten where it is today because of my vision. Yes, that does involve taking risks. If it didn’t, I’d own one record shop in Clapham Common and none of the rest of you would have these nice board seats. The Rathtar fields have encountered difficulties, but I have engaged an investigative firm with my own resources that should get to the bottom of the matter in short order.” As always, Han can easily speak with confidence he doesn’t really have. Something about what Beckett said is nagging at him, like he hasn’t addressed everything, but in the moment he can’t figure out what it is.

Vos nods and takes additional comments. Much to Han’s chagrin, several board members speak up in agreement with Beckett’s rant. They hem and haw and spout platitudes about a new direction, or changing times. By the time Vos calls the vote, the writing is on the wall.

The board votes by a slim majority to request Han’s resignation as CEO.

Han leans back in his chair, blowing air out with puffed cheeks to hold off on saying anything he might regret. “May I have a moment outside to consult with Ms Nest?” he asks, finally.

Vos nods, and Han and Enfys step outside the doors. The intense look in her eye tells Han he made a good choice. She’s got her laptop open to his contract and they look over it quickly. “You certainly don’t need to worry about being short of cash,” she mentions first. “We wrote you an ironclad golden parachute. You retain significant stock holdings and the title of founder, plus a payout that should be worth upward of ₤160 million.”

“Enfys, I don’t need 160 million pounds. I need my space program!” Han cries out, gnashing his teeth and clenching his fists. He doesn’t understand how a majority of the board came around to Beckett’s position. That’s when it clicks. “Enfys. Did you tell Tobias about the attack in Bayswater?”

She raises an eyebrow. “No, I thought the strategy was to tell no one.” Then it clicks for her, too. “You mean…you’re wondering how he knew about it.”

Han nods, a frown deep etched into his forehead.

Enfys sighs, calculating for a moment. “I don’t think it’s in your best interest to confront him about it today. I advise resigning without a fuss. If, as we believe, 5010 Group will eventually turn up evidence of who hired your attacker, it may be possible to connect it to Tobias. At that point it should not be hard to convince the board that they were duped and should take you back.”

Han grits his teeth but nods shortly. “I understand. It is fucking bullshit. I have been looking forward to this afternoon’s presentation since…” He trails off, shaking his head. 

Enfys puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Buck up, boss. There will be another day. We’ll get through this. Right?” Han nods silently and reopens the door to the board room. It feels like he’s going to his execution. Solo Group is his everything. It’s his life, his family if he’s being honest. It’s all he has to show for his life. And now it's not going to be his anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sudden case of food poisoning my arse. Dame Qi'ra was got out of the way or she would have swayed the votes to Han, obvs.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han hits bottom, Ani has news, and Leia has a bad feeling about stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking 3 weeks to publish 2 chapters. I've taken on a new role at work that's requiring some prep time, but still look forward to pushing forward with this tale and sharing it with you! The chapter is a bit longer than usual at least...

_Somerville, Massachusetts. March 6, 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

It’s a Friday, and Léon is ensconced in his usual spot by the window. This afternoon some middle-aged math professor has made the mistake of challenging Léon to a game of chess. The stooped and grizzled Italian’s unusual technique has clearly frustrated his opponent. 

Rey smiles, chuckling to herself as she cleans the steam wand on the espresso machine. The door at the rear of the coffee shop pops open and Finn walks through, pocketing his phone. He gives her a quick hug before punching in at the till.

“What news?” Rey asks. Finn communicates regularly with Padmé’s lawyer and accountant to give a proper report on the ongoing health of Café Nabú. 

“I was calling the accountant just now to schedule the quarterly financial review for the end of the month. You’d think that he could tell me how Padmé is doing, but no luck.” Finn shakes his head. “Sorry, babe. I know you miss her. How are you doing?”

Rey smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s starting to stress a little about the job search; she’s sending out so many applications and getting so few callbacks, but it sounds like that’s par for the course these days for new graduates. It might also be the time of year. March in Massachusetts brings spring in fits and starts, and Rey always starts to feel antsy. 

The inexplicable connections with Ben Solo add even greater uncertainty to everything. Finn and Poe keep debating ridiculous ideas about where Padmé went, but if what she heard from Ben is for real, Padmé is somewhere none of them can comprehend. And what if Ben were to show up again while she’s working in the cafe? How can she avoid everyone thinking she’s losing her mind? She really needs to get her mind off things.

Léon has somehow played to a stalemate and his disgruntled opponent is putting on his scarf and coat to leave the cafe. Padmé’s old friend stands stiffly and walks over to the counter for his “latte.” 

“Any word of Mathilda?” he asks Rey. She shakes her head. “No, none.” She looks him in the eye, thoughtfully. His hooked nose and heavy-lidded eyes give the old man a mysterious look. “Tell me, Léon. Where do _you_ think she went?”

Léon lets out a short laugh. “I have no idea. But if you find anyone that work with her, when she was Jane Foster — they I think will know better than anyone where she go to.”

It’s truer than he thinks, Rey supposes. Didn’t that Thor guy claim to have worked with Padmé? And Ben believes he was the one who brought Rey and Lorne to Earth from Ieldraan. She wonders if Thor will ever show up again. If he does, would he be willing to take Rey to Ieldraan? Ben has promised to come back to her, but she’s always chafed at inactivity. 

She passes Léon his milk in a tall glass on a saucer, and nestles a small almond cookie next to it. “From a new bakery that opened in Porter. Tell me what you think,” she smiles. 

* * *

  
_London, England. 6 March 2015_   
_Earth/Midgard_

If there are any minutes left in today before it becomes yesterday, Han isn’t quite aware of it. He lifts the glass of scotch to his lips yet again, sighing when he can’t quite keep the view in front of him from blurring in and out. Usually Artesian is a great place for people-watching and charming the ladies, but today he just wants to reach oblivion. 

Robin, the cocktail bartender, is wiping things down and stacking glasses and generally keeping busy, but from time to time he looks over at Sir Han with concern. Eventually he steps round the corner and pulls out his mobile, dialling Han’s driver. He explains the situation briefly; Szymon promises to come soon and bring help.

Han alternates mumbling to himself with trying ineffectually to attract Robin’s attention and get a refill on his Scotch. Luckily for Robin, the ordeal does not have to go on much longer. The door to the bar bursts open and Szymon strides through in his usual utilitarian navy parka, tufts of greying blond hair poking out beneath his flat black wool cap. He’s accompanied by a woman Robin hasn’t seen before; she’s young and beautiful, with a profusion of reddish natural curls spilling over her sharply tailored purple leather coat. Underneath, she’s wearing a soft black cable-knit sweater and boldly patterned black and white palazzo pants. Robin wonders if Han has married again or if she’s some kind of an assistant.

“Sir Han?” Robin nudges the hand that grips the glass. “Your friends are here.”

Han looks up and manages to focus with effort. “Ah, fuck. Enfys. Whadda fuck are you doing here. Szymon, you got no business dragging my lawyer into this.” Robin raises an eyebrow silently, his question answered, and goes back to polishing barware.

“Sorry, guvnor, she insisted,” Szymon shrugs. 

The young attorney gets Robin’s attention and places an order in a low voice. Robin nods and takes out a silver tray, filling it with expert precision.

“Han, this isn’t like you,” Enfys says quietly, taking a seat next to him. “I would think you would be planning out your next steps, getting on top of the PR strategy. Why don’t you let Szymon take you home, and I will come by first thing so we can get to work.”

“Nah,” Han slurs. “I saw on the TV. Beckett, damn him, “interim CEO” my ass. And you still work for those fuckers, so why would I trussht…”

Enfys cuts him off. “I don’t. Beckett’s first actions after the annual meeting finished were to give notice to your top aeronautical engineers, then to me and Miss Sharest. She spent Thursday and Friday supervising the removals men as they cleared out your collection from the executive suite, and then Beckett kicked us out.”

Han looks up, bleary-eyed. “Fuck ‘em. Let’s have a round of shots. To unemployment!” He raises his empty glass.

“I’m way ahead of you,” Enfys smiles. “Barkeep?”

Robin brings the tray over. Six ice-cold shot glasses filled with clear liquid surround a plate of caviar toasts. Enfys takes a toast and nibbles on it, and Han shoves one into his mouth whole, a look of determination in his eyes. They clink glasses and throw them back.

“That’s smooth, doesn’t even burn,” Han says a bit too loudly, munching on another toast. 

“You’re just too drunk to notice anymore,” Enfys laughs. She winks at Robin, who smiles and shakes his head. Bright young lady to have him pour shots of water, though he supposes most solicitors are too smart for anyone’s good.

Szymon refuses Han’s offer of a shot on the grounds that he’s driving. Han and Enfys polish off their caviar and three shots of water. Han’s adamant that he’s drinking Reyka, but Robin isn’t telling. Robin closes out Han’s tab and Enfys leaves a sizable tip before helping Szymon get Han into his overcoat and out to the car. Enfys sits in back next to her former employer, breathing a sigh of relief when he falls asleep against the window. 

If she thought losing track of his family had made Han more erratic and challenging to work with than normal, that had nothing on him losing his business empire. Enfys shakes her head, watching the lights of London pass the car windows in unceasing rhythm, listening to the purr of the engine of Han’s town car. Sir Han Solo has made her career, to this point — advancing her to the highest levels of the Solo Group legal department, ahead of many older male solicitors, because he saw something in the quality of her work. It’s the least she can do to spend a few weeks trying to help him weather this setback before she goes in search of her next position.

* * *

  
_Garden City, Dagda. Three thousand and seventh cycle of peace._   
_Doroglu/Grønnalfheim_

Mace accepts the small, round cup of tea that floats into his hands. His eyes are closed, but he’s profoundly aware of everything around him. The pungent smell of the tea. Its heat. The squelching humidity of the swamp that surrounds him and his hosts. The curiosity infecting the Force signatures of the younger green elves, those who are only a couple hundred years old in Ieldraan’s timeline, who have never seen a human visit their realm who isn’t a member of the royal house of Asgard.

Mace smiles internally to think of his own curiosity when he first learned of the existence of Grønnalfheim and the other realms. He’d spent a few years on Haruun Kal before being identified as a powerful Force-sensitive and taken from his home planet to the temple on Coruscant, which was a big enough change to begin with. He progressed rapidly through Padawan training and Knighthood, and had just attained the rank of Master when the Jedi Council assigned him his new role: Realm Protector for Midgard. He was barely older than twenty and suddenly the universe expanded yet again as he got a crash course in the ten realms and the history of Asgard, the Jedi, and the Force-sensitives of other realms.

This was the first time, though, that he’d ever actually traveled to a realm other than Ieldraan, Asgard, or Midgard. And it was to the most Force-infused of the other realms. Like Midgard, this is a realm with only one planet that supports sentient lifeforms. He had learned that unlike Midgard, Grønnalfheim’s inhabitants are all Force-sensitive, though in varying degrees. Only those who draw from the Light are encouraged to develop their powers; those who draw from the Dark are guided into careers like engineering, music, and art, where they use and develop their potentially dangerous powers less than they might in roles like politics, sport, or the monastic life. 

Master Windu’s mind is almost swimming with the headiness of the Force power here; while Asgard’s energy fields are stronger, these affect him in a different way. They’re less sharp. They reverberate throughout his body and soul. Mace feels youthful and alert. He’s able to tap into the entire matrix of the realm, able to feel sure with every atom of his body that if any evil were lurking in this realm, he’d feel its discordancy. Based on the way some of the elves look at him, he suspects they might see his own set of nearly-grey powers as just such an intrusion.

He, however, finds no sign of any malign forces at work in this realm. Normally Mace would think a six-hour meditation wasn’t nearly enough to scan an entire realm, but he knows a week has passed back home and he feels, deep in his bones, that Grønnalfheim organically desires to share its secrets…it just doesn’t have any. 

He opens his eyes, sipping the bitter tea as he catches the gaze of the elder elf sitting across from him. She nods in acknowledgment, her long ears twitching slightly where they protrude from the sides of the softly woven hood that hides her face in darkness. “Our world is not what you expected, Master Windu?” she asks quietly.

Mace chuckles. “I don’t know what I expected. I’ve only ever met two of your kind. I knew to expect a high degree of power in the Force. But Yoda is a little…less than forthcoming about his origins.”

“Ah,” his counterpart says serenely. “Yes. We green elves do normally delight in a certain obscurity. Which is why I am not offended that you have not recognized a former colleague.” She draws back the hood with wizened fingers, revealing her face. Mace Windu’s eye widens in surprise.

“Master Yaddle!” he exclaims. “I…had no idea what happened to you after Naboo. And after Order 66, well…” he trails off. He’d kept his attention on his assigned realm, trying to avoid the dangers of Ieldraan, as well as its griefs.

The old green elf smiles knowingly. “Likewise, Master Windu,” she nods. “While you probably did not notice when I took on the role of Realm Protector for my home realm, we seem to have made similar journeys. I have not returned to Ieldraan since before the Clone Wars; sometimes Thor or Sif brought me the sad news. Ieldraan’s tragedy seemed so complete that I focused simply on protecting my charges here from any possible Sith incursion, and tried not to think of what might have happened to you, or Yoda, or Ki-Adi.”

“It was just like you describe it for me, too,” Mace acknowledges. “Though Midgard is a very different assignment.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I appreciate how you’ve kept this realm safe, and I’ll report back to—well, to the odd coalition we have operating at the moment in place of a Council.”

“I have a mandate to cooperate with you in any way possible,” Yaddle explains. “If you need elven assistance on Ieldraan and are certain that the risk of Order 66 is over, don’t hesitate to call on me and my people.”

“Certainly,” Mace nods. “I’ll keep it in mind. It’s damn strange collaborating with the Force Ghosts of my old friends, plus half-trained offspring of Anakin Skywalker.”

The elder green elf frowns now. “Not ideal. Though I can’t say I understand what a Force Ghost is. You will have to illuminate me further on your next visit, or record me a holocron.” She pauses, refilling the tea. “Before you leave, Mace, I need your help as well. A child is missing, and we believe he may have been taken to Ieldraan.”

“Is that so?” Mace queries.

The elf nods again. “Our species is not…abundant. We have perhaps two hundred children across the entire realm. This one, Grogu, was born some time ago…around forty-six Ieldraanian years ago, while I was still serving on the Council. So he is quite young and helpless. If you should sense him, or come across him in your travels, please help us.”

Mace assents, then finishes his tea and bows graciously as he prepares to exit the room. He has a lot to think about as he activates the holocron and travels back to Ieldraan, but it’s all questions and no answers.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 6, Week 7, Day 5 (5.6.7.5 ABY)_  
 _Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Leia is reclining on the sofa in the main living area of Bail’s house reading Orwell after breakfast. The Ieldraanian work schedule is different from a modern Earth lifestyle; five-day weeks in seven-week months with long festivals interspersed seem more like something she would have read about in ancient history. Apparently, labor unions haven’t demanded the weekend on Chandrila. Bail understands the need for a break, though, so on the fifth day of the week he always gives her and Kaydel the morning off, and the afternoon if Senate workloads are light. 

Padmé wanders in after an hour or two. After her initial lack of direction, she’s settled into a routine worthy of the most active retiree. Besides her shooting practice and time with family and friends, she’s corresponding extensively with Dormé by holo. They’re collaborating on a book on the secret history of the Clone Wars. 

Leia looks up, smiling at her mother and closing _Down and Out in Paris and London_ , a dogeared favorite from her London days in the Eighties. Not that her Bohemian phase lasted long before she met Han. “Morning, mother,” she says. “Any news from Naboo?” The subtext is clear: _Any news of Ben?_ While Leia knows her mother facilitated Ben’s flight, gave him funds and maps from Artoo, she isn’t sure if she also told him where to go. Or even if, if Padmé knows where he is, if she would tell Leia. She supposes she deserves it after the sort of mother she was for all those years, leaving Ben to be Padmé’s problem. There’s a certain irony that Padmé managed to raise her grandson to be a much more functional human being than she managed with her daughter, though that might be more about their respective personalities than their upbringings.

“Did you hear a word I just said?” Padmé asks, her laugh tinkling like glass windchimes. Leia laughs in return.

“No, I really didn’t. Sorry, just thinking of Ben,” she admits.

“I know, it’s hard not knowing,” Padmé commiserates. She moves on to the kitchen to ask the droids for some tea and snacks, then returns to the couch and takes a place next to Leia. “Have you tried reaching out recently?” the older woman asks tentatively. She knows Leia has mixed feelings about the Force.

Leia shrugs. “Not today, but nothing’s stopping me, I suppose?” She closes her eyes and takes Padmé’s hand in hers, feeling the pulsing of their two heartbeats, the pulsing of Chandrila’s energy around them, the flow of the Force.

“Huh,” Leia says barely a minute later, opening her eyes. “Hello, Father.” Shimmering on the other side of the room is the blue form of Anakin Skywalker. He grins briefly and rushes to Padmé’s side. 

“Ani!” Padmé exclaims. “It’s been more than a week!”

“After more than forty years one would think you could handle a week, Mother,” Leia says acerbically. She’s still unsure what to think of her youthful Force ghost father and Padmé’s relationship with him. 

“Watch it, young lady,” Anakin smirks. “Someday I’ll meet someone who’s courting you, and then where will you be?”

Leia cringes internally. Lando has told her the story of how Darth Vader tortured him to lure Luke into coming to the rescue. 

Padmé senses something awry and swiftly changes the subject. “Darling, have you any news of our grandson?” She doesn’t hope for much, but one never knows.

Anakin’s eyes light up with excitement. He’s glad to be able to report even a small success to Padmé after, undoubtedly, disappointing her so many times. “I found him.”

Leia sits up on the edge of the sofa. “Where? Is he all right?”

“Quite all right,” Anakin reassures her. “I’m not entirely sure where he is. It’s a castle built on a Force nexus, and he actually found my old lightsaber there — the one Luke had when he fought me a couple years ago.”

Padmé and Leia exchange glances. “So Ben was seeking out Force relics?” Leia asks.

“Not sure that’s why he ended up there,” Anakin shrugs. “But that’s where I found him. He seemed generally well, though he had a disturbing vision when he touched the lightsaber and passed out again.”

“That’s so out of character for my Ben,” Padmé shakes her head. “Emotionally, yes, he can go off the handle, but he can put up with any amount of physical distress.”

Now it’s Anakin and Leia’s turn to exchange glances. “I’m not sure the experience of a Force vision counts as physical distress so to speak,” Anakin explains. 

Padmé doesn’t really understand, but she still has more questions, so she moves on. “If you don’t know where he is, do you know when he plans to come back? Does he have a ship?”

“I don’t know if he has a ship, but he said he would come back after his irritation with Luke died down. He sounded like that might take a few months. In the interim he has a plan.” 

“And that plan is?” Leia asks with a sinking feeling. Luke would tell her she’s reading Anakin in the Force, but she’s not sure it’s supposed to work like that with inhabitants of the Living Force. 

“He’s determined to find Palpatine, or Palpatine Junior. Prove to you all that he was right to be concerned. I told him he was unlikely to succeed, but that just seemed to make him more determined,” Anakin admits.

“Duh,” laughs Leia. 

Padmé shakes her head. “He is your grandson after all. And mine. And, well, Leia, your son.” 

Leia rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m glad he’s safe, but I’m worried about his plan. Thanks for tracking him down,” she tells Anakin.

The street door slides open and Threepio walks in. “Greetings, Your Majesty, Madame.” He makes his stilted way to the stairs and begins ascending as the door slides open a second time and Bail walks in. He’s got his arm clasped around the shoulders of a dark-hooded figure. 

They step into the living room. “Ladies! Look who I found,” Bail announces, smiling. The other man draws back his hood and Leia recognizes Agent Fury — Master Windu, that is. The Jedi nods to her and Padmé in recognition, then scowls at Anakin’s Force ghost. 

Bail looks mildly confused, but shakes his head. “I’ll be up in my office if you all need anything. Or if you need a respite from these Force users, Padmé.” He turns and heads upstairs. 

Padmé turns to her husband. “You know, I’m pretty sure you could manifest visibly to Bail if you can appear visibly to me,” she scolds lightly. 

Anakin responds with his characteristic grin and a shake of his head. “No, I prefer to keep Bail guessing. He should always be wondering if I’m around. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Padmé sighs and rolls her eyes, but Leia frowns at the conversation. What exactly is her father up to? He’s dead, right? While she’s never been big on hippie music, the Crosby, Stills and Nash tune “Love the One You’re With” had been all over the airwaves when she was a little girl. It’s a philosophy that helped her weather some of the hollow loneliness of her long separation from Han. It’s why she’s currently having a nice time exploring Chandrilan nightlife with Lando whenever he’s on planet. 

“Love the One You’re With” never seemed to be her mother’s philosophy, though. Padmé lived more by a code of “Bury Yourself in Astrophysics.” After Padmé retired, Leia had hoped maybe she would find more time for friends and relationships, but she just threw herself into opening a cafe and providing Ben with a soft landing when he left active duty. 

In the back of her mind Leia wonders if her mother never dated because she knew her husband was still alive. If that was the case, she should finally be free! Free to date some nice, handsome older gent like Viceroy-Senator Bail Organa. Not tethered to the ghost of a twenty-something with questionable boundaries.

Given what she’s thinking about, Leia’s glad Luke spent so much time training them in mental blocks. Though that sends her thinking about her son’s mental blocks and how she wishes he’d spent less time training them. What goes around comes around, she supposes.

**********

Later in the day, Leia finds Master Windu meditating on the veranda. He’s folded into the lotus position, spinning lazily six feet in the air. Waves of serenity pulse out from him. Never really the vibe Leia got from her mother’s employer back on earth, where Agent Fury was a no-nonsense representative of law, order, and recruiting her son for the military.

Leia was not the hugest fan of her son’s decision to join the SEALs, and she never understood why Padmé supported and maybe even encouraged it. But now that she understands her mom had been basically raised by a mob hitman before being plunged into an intergalactic war, she can perhaps see how it made sense as an Earth-friendly outlet for Ben’s…unique energies.

Ben’s why she’s wandered out here to demand a chat with Nick. Mace. Whatever the fuck his name is. “Mace?” she calls, hoping to disturb his meditation as gently as possible. “You’ve been out here for hours, can I have a word?”

He opens his one eye at her and nods, unfolding his legs and floating gently back down to ground level. “How can I help you, Leia?”

“I’ll cut to the chase,” she shrugs. “I’m worried about Ben. You were the closest thing he had to a father figure for a lot of years, plus you’re a Jedi. I’m hoping you can help me figure this out.”

Mace nods, brow furrowed. “Certainly. Do you want to get Padmé in on this conversation?”

“I’ve talked to her. She’s convinced I shouldn’t worry. But I’m feeling off in the Force, and she doesn’t have that particular…blessing?” Leia finishes ironically.

“Let’s walk and talk,” the elder Jedi suggests. Leia throws a cape over her shoulders and they pass into the house, wave at Threepio, then pass back out the front entrance to the street. Their feet lead them over the picturesque paving stones of a few blocks before they turn toward the sea. The breeze is fresh. Leia takes a deep breath. 

“He’s blocking me. Continually,” she says without looking at Mace. She knows he’s looking at her, and she doesn’t want to be caught out if she should happen to tear up. “Something feels…wrong. As a mother I’ve been worried ever since he disappeared, but lately I’ve been feeling even worse. Visions of something terrible happening. There’s nothing I can do, which makes me realize how much I could have done to help back when he was a kid. When I knew where he was and could understand his normal human problems, you know?”

“But you didn’t,” Mace says matter-of-factly. “And knowing that, you feel worse.”

Leia nods silently, willing herself not to cry.

“That’s the Dark trying to get at you. Don’t ignore it,” he advises. “Learn from it. Make a plan. If the time comes when you have the opportunity to help Ben, what are you willing to do? What are you willing to give up? Don’t just wallow in your despair, that’s what gives the evil ones their power.”

“Thanks, Mace,” she nods, looking up at him finally. “Can I ask — have you felt anything? Can you sense what’s going to happen?”

The old Jedi master frowns. “Seeing the future — it’s so fallible. I stopped trusting in visions a long time ago. I can tell you that your son is resourceful, intelligent, and powerful. But there’s something missing from the picture. I haven’t figured it all out yet.”

“Let me know if you do,” Leia says with a wry shake of her head. The sun glimmers on the water and she tries to grasp the glimmer of hope that accompanies the old Jedi’s expression of trust in her son. Ben should be able to take care of himself.

But if he gets in trouble, she might need to make sacrifices. Or, heavens forfend, pick up the lightsaber again.

Here’s hoping Ben stays out of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you know where Yodas come from -- in this AU at least. FWIW, in actual Norse cosmogony there were realms called "Alfheim" (Elves' home) and "Svartalfheim" (Dark Elves' home -- which you may recall from _Thor 2_ ). I just made Alfheim into Grønnalfheim (Green Elves' home). Honestly, the idea that only 3 of a species would be wandering around the SW galaxy makes *more* sense if they come from an entirely different realm...


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben can't catch a break, but at least he has some friends in his corner. Meanwhile, Jedi reunions can get dicey. Had I said Han hit bottom in the previous chapter? Yeah well, maybe he's hit bottom now? Having friends in your corner only works if you let them help. Leia on the other hand is having a grand time.

_Maz Kanata’s Castle. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Festival Week 2, Day 1 (5.Fest2.1 ABY)_  
_Takodana/Ieldraan_

Ben’s sitting at his usual table in the cantina in the late morning, ancient Jedi texts spread out before him as he takes notes in his datapad. He’s identified a couple of planets besides the fourth moon of Yavin where he hopes to uncover Jedi or Sith relics. It would be nice to find a Jedi holocron. Or some more Sith texts to more clearly explain how to access the knowledge in the holocron he has.

He grimaces as he shifts in his seat. The exertions of the day before yesterday are taking their toll on his muscles, and his shoulder hasn’t healed up perfectly yet even with the bacta patch he got from one of Maz’s droids. Part of him suspects he’s relied on the bond with Rey to achieve some of the miraculous healing he’s experienced in his time in Ieldraan. He hasn’t seen her since the night before he was ambushed by the men from his vision.

Just as he’s thinking that, one of the very men sits down across the heavy wooden table from him uninvited. Ben looks up sharply, nostrils flaring, mouth shut in a tight line. 

The man raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, then makes a great show of taking off his arm cannon and other weaponry and putting them on the floor. Finally, he reaches up and takes off his matte black helmet. “I don’t have a white flag or I’d be waving it,” he says gruffly. “I’m Cardo Ren. I’ve been deputized to talk to you.”

“Well, talk,” shrugs Ben, gathering up his books and papers into a neat pile. He sees Cardo Ren’s eyes fall eagerly on one Sith document. 

“Can I ask your name?” Cardo tries to smile, but it looks a bit like a sneer because of a large scar on one cheek. Probably near to Ben’s age, he has olive skin, grey eyes, and black hair that sticks up wildly. 

“Call me Kylo,” Ben answers shortly. “Now, what’s your business?”

“My comrades and I are the Knights of Ren. We were recruited by a powerful Force user several months ago, and he’s rather set on meeting you.”

“Well, tough cookies.”

Cardo raises a sharp black eyebrow in confusion. “Uh, yeah. Anyway, previously Ren has convinced all his Knights to join our employer’s cause by defeating them in combat. This strategy has limitations. You demonstrated them. We’re impressed by your strength.”

“Am I supposed to thank you? Because I really don’t give a shit what your weird gimp cult thinks about my powers,” Ben shrugs. “My advice would be to find some other Force user on some other planet, and go bother them instead.”

“Look, I can see why you would think that,” Cardo agrees. “But I think meeting our employer would have something in it for you, too. I’ve been watching how you spend your time. You’re into the arcane learning, the old Jedi and Sith stuff, right?”

“Yeah, but based on how you guys control your powers, you don’t have anything to teach me when it comes to arcane learning,” Ben points out.

“Sure, Kylo,” nods Cardo. “We don’t. But Lord Snoke is a different matter. He’s this like ancient king and he can manipulate the Force even via hologram, and he has a kriffing enormous collection of relics. We’ve found some relics and books, but he never lets Ren keep them, we always hand them over to him.”

“Ren is your gang leader?” Ben asks. Cardo nods assent. Ben sighs. “What’s your game plan here? You think Lord Smoke is going to share the relics with me that he wasn’t sharing with you? That’s not usually how power works.”

“Yeah,” Cardo looks over his shoulders to be sure no one is listening. “It’s not. But what if we went and found Snoke and just took what we wanted? If you come with us willingly he’ll never know what hit him. With you in our ranks we’ll have the power to stand up to him.”

“Doesn’t sound like y’all have a great relationship with your patron. In fact, I’d go out on a limb and say I want nothing to do with your situation. Sorry I killed your pal and all, but we’ll all be happier if you fuck off and leave me alone.” Ben stands, taking his pile of books and signalling the conversation is over.

“I hear ya,” Cardo says ruefully. “But I’m not giving up yet.” He puts his helmet back on and nods to Ben’s departing back.

* * *

  
_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Festival Week 2, Day 1 (5.Fest2.1 ABY)_  
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

“Why not send me?” Anakin demands, arms crossed as he looks down at the similarly ethereal form of his old master. “Let me guess, you don’t trust me.”

Obi-Wan tilts his head to the side and strokes his beard appraisingly. “Strange as it may seem, I believe I do trust you once more,” he intones. “It took great courage to overthrow Darth Sidious and rescue young Luke.”

“A task you will get, when the right task it is. Niflheim and Muspelheim — too close these are to the origins of the Sith power. Allow a Palpatine to get his clutches on you again, we will not,” Yoda nods to himself. Anakin grumbles, but the old green elf continues. “A story I will tell you, of the one time I visited Muspelheim before. An awful place it is, just like your Mustafar.”

“All the more reason I…” Anakin begins, but he’s cut off by a glare from Obi-Wan. 

“When you a padawan were, Muspelheim a new realm protector needed. Loki it was given, for Odin, his trust in his son wished to show. Kark it up massively, teenage Loki did,” Yoda declaims mischievously, beginning to cackle when the two younger Force ghosts stare at him wide-eyed. Who knew the old Grand Master could swear. “Dispatched I was, as interim realm protector, until solve the problem they could. Force lightning I made! Zap! Pow!” Yoda jumps up and down laughing maniacally. “Thought Thor had come, they did! Misbehave no more, did the fire giants. Pleased with me, Odin was not.” He sits down, nodding, a glint in his eye from remembering. “Happy to see me again, the fire giants may not be. But take advantage of you they would, hm.”

Anakin frowns. “That’s no reason why I couldn’t help with Niflheim.”

Ben nods. “True, but the time of my return is unknown. When Luke returns from the realm of the dwarves, your help will be needed. You have been to Midgard before. You will be Luke’s guide on his journey there, while Mace travels to Vanaheim.”

“Fine. Midgard is certainly strange. Though I’m not sure why we’re bothering with it, since we can’t detect anything there in the Force. But Luke and I will figure it out,” Anakin concedes.

“I’m glad you are agreed. Now, shall we activate the holocrons?” Obi-Wan asks Yoda, who nods in return. The three dead Jedi fall into a meditation together, slowly generating and building up the Force power necessary to activate the two translucent cubes that float up off of the desk in one of Bail’s guest rooms. Some minutes pass before Yoda disappears on his errand to Muspelheim. He’s followed a minute later by Kenobi. 

Left alone in the room, Anakin opens his eyes and smiles. He senses that Padmé is taking a relaxing evening soak in the refresher just above the room where he now sits. He’ll just pop up and say hello. The Force ghost gathers himself for a Force-assisted leap, and propels himself up through the ceiling. 

Elsewhere in the house, Threepio hears a brief shriek and hopes everyone is safe.

* * *

  
_Wasteland Fortress. Interregnum after the demise of Laufey._  
_Jotunheim_

Some things are not going according to plan. Ren and his Knights are weak, incompetent. One of them is so incompetent he is dead; two are maimed. At least the maimed ones may learn from their incompetence. Ren himself is probably still feeling the agonies he received in punishment. He learns from pain better than from reward; such is the tedious manner of all these self-styled worshippers of the Dark.

Now, the one who bested the Knights — that one is of some interest. The Knights have been encouraged to bring him in by whatever manner necessary, with or without Ren’s leadership. A little spirit of competition might induce some trickery or clever thinking. Hopefully it won’t backfire. Ren says the man is extremely powerful and fights like he had real Jedi training, though he was too young to have been alive before Order 66. Though his Force signature is not one that had been apparent, really, in the past. It’s a fascinating mixture of light and dark that seems just to have suddenly awakened a few months ago. 

Perhaps by some twist of fate the man was in fact a Jedi, and has been in hiding on a different realm, one where time passed slower, all these years? It might be wise to turn his gaze, every now and again, from the habitual focus on the ancestral realms of Light and Dark power: Asgard, Ieldraan, Svartalfheim. To inspect other realms instead. 

And so he does. He settles into a meditative trance, as he was taught as a child by the powerful Force user who called him her son. It is a bit of an effort to reach out to the realms he has so long ignored. He passes over Midgard, knowing it a wasteland in the Force, and gazes on Grønnalfheim, Vanaheim, light-ridden. Neutral Nidavellir. 

Boring old Nidavellir. Which has a great honking green beacon of a Force signature on it. And when he looks on toward Muspelheim and Niflheim, usually seductive beacons of the Dark, they too have bold lights flickering on them, like the Jedi of old. 

What are they doing there? He’s determined to find out. “Bring me my wayfinder holocron,” he commands the nearest acolyte. Gods, he hates this voice. How he misses his native urbanity.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. March 11, 2015_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Next week is spring break and Rey can’t wait. A break is exactly what she needs. Today feels like spring, at least, even though her schedule is still pretty busy. It’s just under 50 degrees Fahrenheit with a brisk wind and a mix of clouds and blue sky. Rey’s got the hood of her old Toyota up taking inventory of what she needs to replace or shine up before she tries to sell the thing finally. 

She hasn’t seen Ben again in more than a week. Part of her misses their connection, and part is just glad of the normalcy of a life with work, school, sport, novels, friends, wine. Nothing supernatural or creepy or too true to be real. 

She wonders if there was a point in _Rebecca_ where the heroine could have just said “This is too weird” and walked away. Where Frodo could have given the damn ring back to Gollum and gone home for tea. Where Watson could have devoted himself simply to practicing medicine rather than squiring a coked-out fiddler to all the country homes that were provisioned with dead bodies.

No, Rey decides. They never would have turned back from the uncanny. Where, after all, would be the fun in any of that? She sighs and slams the hood shut, then goes inside to wash the grease from her hands. She grabs a snack and climbs up to her loft, powering on Ben’s computer to see if it has any new insights for her. She still has no idea why he wanted her to log on to it, other than to prove that he was real? She opens his Spotify and clicks mindlessly on a playlist to listen to on his nice speaker system while simultaneously texting with Poe about plans for the weekend. Apparently, Ben is deeply enamored of obscure Trent Reznor side projects and Scandinavian metal bands. Unsurprising, given how he usually dressed, she supposes.

Then she powers down and goes to grab her books for class.

* * *

  
_Maz Kanata’s Castle. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Festival Week 2, Day 3 (5.Fest2.3 ABY)_  
_Takodana/Ieldraan_

Since the arrival of the Knights of Ren, Ben hasn’t been going into the forest for his exercise and meditation. He exercises in the courtyard or near the parked ships, where there are plenty of people around, many of whom would be disinclined to let the Knights break Maz’s rules about fighting. He meditates in his room. 

Ben’s Force meditation has different directions on different days, but he always reaches out at some point to try to find Rey. As usual, if he extends his perception well beyond the realm of Ieldraan, he can find the brightly burning yellow beacon that he associates with her in the otherwise dark waste of Midgard. Some other things have changed about the realms, though. Two of the realms that had sported indistinct masses of Force signatures now have some light that seems familiar — he could almost swear one of the green lights out there is his uncle. What the hell would Luke be doing on a different realm? 

As often happens he starts to feel the cold darkness tugging from one of the disquietingly evil realms. He wonders if that is Svartalfheim, home of the dark elves, source of the Aether that powers his Sith holocron. He doesn’t particularly desire to find out, so as always when that happens, he breaks off his meditation. Whatever Anakin had done for him that one time in Bail's place he now can do for himself. He digs around in his bags to locate the little pyramid and looks at it for a moment before stowing it away again. 

Just then something pulses powerfully enough with the dark side of the Force that Ben feels it even though he’s not meditating any more. What could it be? Chances are, if it’s anything nearby, the Knights are to blame. He grabs his saber and blaster and makes sure his room is thoroughly locked up before sprinting down the twisting staircase in his tower. 

When he reaches the cantina there’s nothing amiss. Everybody is acting normal — well, festival week normal. It’s mid-morning but a good half of the pirates that run the place in Maz’s absence have been drinking already. Ben hastens over to the bar. 

“Have you seen those Knights guys around just now?” he asks urgently.

The barkeep nods sagely. “Yeah, the head guy and two of his sidekicks went down the basement a little while ago. Dunno where the other ones are.”

The basement… “Oh no,” Ben laments and runs for the stairs. His grandfather’s saber and helmet should not fall into the hands of the strange cult and their mysterious Lord Snake. (Or was it Snape? Something weird that reminded Ben of creepiness and Harry Potter.)

He skids to a halt at the bottom of the stairs when he sees two of the Knights — the scythe guy and the one whose leg Ben had injured — tending to the prone form of their leader. Ben ignites his saber. The two men turn their heads at the sound of it humming to life. One of them stands; looks like his leg has healed up fine.

“What’s in that chest is mine,” Ben finds himself declaring. So what if he had told Anakin he wanted nothing to do with the saber, and had taken the mask from Padmé’s room without permission. The last thing he was going to do was let them get stolen by these guys. He falls into a relaxed stance, ready to attack if the three Knights don’t clear out. “Get your leader and get out of here.”

The second Knight helps Ren to stand. Ren shakes out his shoulders, his face unreadable behind the usual sigilled mask. “I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere,” he grunts. He unclips his saber from his belt and ignites it, the red blade buzzing harshly. “If you think it’s yours, come take it.”

The narrow quarters aren’t ideal for combat, but Ben charges in with enthusiasm. He takes a running leap at Ren, slashing his saber aside and kicking the man for good measure, before turning to the Knights. The previously injured Knight puts up a good fight, keeping Ben occupied with his great vibrocleaver. A slight tickle in his mind suggests to Ben that the third Knight is trying to manipulate the Force, so he gives a great push and hurls that guy up against the wall. 

Ren isn’t fighting in top form, probably because of whatever happened to him when he opened the chest and touched Anakin’s old saber, but he’s returned to close with Ben and they’re trading blows with their sabers when suddenly there’s a rush of additional bodies into the room. 

“NO FIGHTING!!” The yell goes up from a swarm of pirates of six different species as they tackle Ben, Ren, and the Knights by the legs. Brave bastards, Ben thinks, to run into the middle of a lightsaber battle. He extinguishes his blade and is relieved to see Ren do the same. The bravery seems to be correlated with the stench of liquor emanating from the pirates, though this impression is corrected when Ben sees a tiny figure reach the bottom of the stairs.

Maz Kanata lifts her oddly oversized goggles and perches them on top of her head. “What blasted idiocy is this?” she exclaims. “Apparently everyone forgot how to read while I was gone. It’s not like I have that many rules.” 

Ren crosses his arms imposingly. “He attacked us. We were just down here inspecting a relic which we sensed. If it is yours, we will be happy to purchase it.”

“That chest is staying right where you found it,” Maz snaps in return. “Nothing here is for sale, and I’ll caution you to stay out of my basement in future. Kylo,” she turns to address him while the Knights silently slip out of the crowd and trudge upstairs. “You know the rules. Why did you attack them?”

“The items in that chest belonged to my grandfather,” he says quietly once Ren is out of earshot. 

“Items?” Maz quirks an eyebrow at him. “There’s just a saber hilt as far as I’m aware. A very troublesome saber hilt.”

“I learned that the hard way while you were gone. But I left another relic there. I think you’ll recognize it.”

Maz steps into the storage room and looks down at the open chest. She nods thoughtfully, seeing the twisted and destroyed mask, then carefully closes the lid and shuts the storeroom door, locking it three times with both ancient and modern security apparatus.

“It will be safe with me. I won’t let those Knights of Whatever take it to their shadowy master, but it is probably safest for you if you don’t have those things either. Now, if you do fight again in my castle you will have to leave, so I recommend you just avoid those fellows, don’t you think?” She smiles at him enigmatically and starts climbing back up the stairs to the bar. “Good thing for you I got home in time to save your hide. The rest of the Knights were just about to come down here when I walked in.”

Ben follows her up the stairs, a bit piqued at the idea that he needs a thousand-year-old miniature pirate to save his ass. He nods his thanks brusquely, throws back a few shots of Corellian whiskey with the pirates who are celebrating their brave assault at the bar, and makes his way back up to his remote tower room. The whole situation is frustrating. Not being able to run in the woods because he might get attacked by the Knights. Them messing with his relics. Not seeing Rey. 

At the thought of her he closes his eyes, willing her image to appear. Anything, any real sensory echo of his friend from the bond. But there’s nothing. He hurls his blaster across the room in frustration and it thuds onto a small black object. Pacing over to retrieve the weapon, he sees the black thing is a scrap of fabric. He doesn’t remember seeing it before, and picks it up.

Panties? Oh. Rey’s panties. Fuck. He asks the Force to give him anything and he finds the panties he ripped off her in their last encounter. It’s absurd, and he actually starts to laugh as he clasps the fabric in his hand and goes to sit on his bed. 

The absurdity doesn’t stop him pressing the lace to his face and breathing deeply. There’s still a hint of a scent of Rey, and before he knows it he’s rock hard. 

That is, of course, the moment Chopper chooses to remind him of his presence, rolling out of a closet in a flurry of beeps.

“The fuck!” Ben cries in a stew of rage and arousal and frustration. He uses the Force to open his door, then hurl the droid out of it. He’s picked up a little binary over the last few weeks, but he doesn’t need much to understand the droid’s scream: _Stupid Jedi!_

He slams the door shut remotely and locks it. He’s lost the moment, the scent of Rey, but he’s still got a raging erection, so he rips his clothes off and stalks into the attached ‘fresher to get rid of it as quickly as possible.

* * *

  
_Hanna City. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Festival Week 2, Day 4 (5.Fest2.4 ABY)_  
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Leia and Lando float out of the Hanna City Memorial Auditorium on a cloud of Chandrilan wine and the euphoria of delight.

“That was amazing!” Leia enthuses. “I can see what you mean about Bith jizz.” (Part of her still snickers internally every time she names the musical genre.)

“The Modal Nodes are unparalleled, aren’t they?” Lando agrees, shaking his head in admiration. He offer her his arm. “Where to? I’m staying at the High Republic Refuge & Spa this time. Would you like to come back for a drink?”

“Sure!” Leia smiles. “I still can’t believe the restoration in there. I mean, it’s only been a month since the midyear gala attack and it looks good as new. You said Cloud City sponsored it?” Based on her understanding of governance in the Bespin system at the moment, that essentially means Lando paid for it out of pocket. 

“Bail and Olia were a big help coordinating the cleanup and engineering assessment — as you know, I’ve been busy in Bespin far too much lately,” Lando explains self-deprecatingly. “We also retrofitted the auditorium with state-of-the-art acoustical features. Roof deck won’t reopen for another month or two, I’m afraid.”

By now they’ve reached his speeder. It shines, gold-toned fittings and plush fabrics everywhere. The exact opposite of the utilitarian exterior of his freighter, the _Falcon_. 

Leia can feel Lando’s eyes on her, raking over her form as she climbs into the speeder. To be more accurate, she supposes, she’s not “feeling his eyes on her,” she’s reading his thoughts in the Force. (It’s the one Jedi skill she’s kept honing, since it comes in handy every day in the New Republic Senate.) And he has some _very interesting_ thoughts about how they can spend the evening in his suite. She smiles back knowingly as he guides the purring speeder into the Chandrilan sunset.

* * *

  
_London, England. 17 March 2015_  
_Earth/Midgard_

“Good God, Han, what is going on here?” Enfys bursts out as she steps into his townhouse, following Szymon’s steady tread. The Polish driver has been bringing groceries in for the boss — mostly ready meals and Scotch. He was worried enough to let Miss Nest tag along this time despite Han’s strict prohibition on visitors.

Han doesn’t respond. He’s lying on his back, head propped on the arm of a lush, buttery mocha leather sofa, stocking feet propped at the other end. Hand clasping a large tumbler of vodka.

“I’m outta Scotch, that’s what. Szymon, ya bastard, d’ya bring what I asked for?” Han slurs, not bothering to open his eyes or acknowledge Enfys’s presence.

“This young lady is very adamant she talk to you, sir,” Szymon ventures. “I put away the groceries in the kitchen while you talk.”

Han sighs and opens his eyes under sufferance. “I don’t want visitors.”

Enfys folds her arms across her chest, stalking around the room and taking in the many empty bottles and dirty glasses. “I don’t bloody care what you want, Han. You need to pull it together. 5010 Group will come through with the evidence, and we can take down the people who did this to you — but not if you’re in A&E getting your stomach pumped.”

“Fuck you, Enfys. You’re not my mother. Or my wife. I’ve got a hundred sixty million quid to drink through, so you can fuck off,” Han snarls from behind closed eyes, again.

“Oh yeah? How about no. No,” Enfys repeats for emphasis. “I’m not fucking off anywhere until you find something better to do with that money than kill yourself with it. Let me give you a couple of ideas.”

Han starts to moan in protest, but she doesn’t stop. “One. You could find some university or corporation to partner with on a new space program. Two. You could go on a long and pleasant vacation and find a hobby. Maybe buy yourself some nice vintage automobiles. Three. You could sponsor some charities and get photographed doing all sorts of good so that Beckett and Vos look like the pieces of shit that they are. Four…”

Han sits up suddenly and looks at her with steely anger in his eyes. “Get. Out. Of my house. Now.”

Enfys Nest just stands there looking at him, eyebrow cocked. 

“Please,” he says ironically, gesturing flamboyantly toward the front door.

“Fuck you too, Han,” Enfys says, eyes narrowed. Then she turns on her heel and leaves. Far off down the front corridor, Han hears a door slam.

Then he sits with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, and he weeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I admit it -- some of my depictions of Maz Kanata's cantina are influenced by some episodes of LEGO Star Wars...


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Mace travel to the realms of the dwarves and dark elves. Ben has a new piloting career--with misgivings. Rey and Yoda are frustrated.

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 7, Week 1, Day 2 (5.7.1.2 ABY)_   
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

“You didn’t tell me there would be Jawas!” The explosion bursts from Luke’s lips before Yoda even fully appears, shimmering blue, on the other side of Bail’s living room. Luke himself got back to Chandrila only an hour or so before. His inter-realm transit, via holocron, had been…dicey. He still feels dizzy or hungover.

> _The trip to Nidavellir to search the dwarves’ realm for signs of Palpatine, his son, or any Dark resurgence was Luke’s first trip away from Ieldraan. Mace sent him safely on his way, ensuring he would activate the holocron correctly and arrive right where he intended, near the oldest temple complex in the realm. The dwarves inhabited a few rocky planets and didn’t distinguish between the Light and Dark sides of the Force, or even acknowledge the Force per se. They stubbornly worshipped Odin as their god and prophesied that the ancient father of the Dwarves and Dark Elves, Ivaldi, would someday return to challenge Odin for primacy._
> 
> _All that, Luke knew to expect. What he didn’t know was what the dwarves looked like. As it turned out, at some point the Asgardians must have moved some sentient species among realms. Luke supposed he should have realized that, what with humans inhabiting Asgard, Ieldraan, and Midgard. But he would never have guessed that the original homeworlds of Jawas and Ugnaughts were in another realm. He was surprised and discomfited to be welcomed to the temple complex by a cry of “Untinni!”_
> 
> _It was just like being back home on Tatooine. Luckily, Luke understood the Jawas’ language; on reflection, maybe that’s why he was sent there rather than Mace. All the temple acolytes were Jawas; if Ugnaughts could manipulate the Force, it had never been proven. Luke’s guide to the temple, whose name roughly translated to “Flood-mind,” explained that at least one other sentient species inhabited some of the outer planets which were too forested to be of interest to the Jawas and Ugnaughts. All Luke could get out of him was that this third species was “very hairy,” “sings too much,” and had the same number of appendages as an Ugnaught._
> 
> _Eventually the ceremonies were concluded: Luke took part squeamishly in some sort of welcoming ritual involving an egg of unusual size, three young Jawa acolytes waved some incense around, and he was left in a meditation chamber at the top of the temple. Fortunately it was open to the sky; most of the rooms inside had such low ceilings Luke had needed to hunch over._
> 
> _Up here, overlooking a bustling trading hub and a rocky plateau, Luke could shut his eyes and reach out to the planet around him and all the life-forms on it. He felt the Force swirling around him, more vigorously than on Ieldraan but with a darker tone. Given his own alignment to the Light, he wasn’t sure whether he would find it easier or more difficult to draw on the Force here. For meditation, it made falling into a trance simple as the Force rocked him steadily. But the vein of darkness made him unsure if he would correctly locate signs of a Palpatine adherent._
> 
> _Well, as Yoda would say, there is no try, so Luke simply did what he had come to do. He reached out in the Force and gradually examined the whole span of the planet. Everything seemed to be in place, following the normal rhythms of sentient life. After a few hours he fell out of meditation, exhausted, and ate a ration bar before summoning “Flood-mind” to guide him to sleeping quarters._
> 
> _“Who is your realm protector here?” Luke asked._
> 
> _The Jawa fixed him with those disconcerting glowing eyes and shook his head. “We have none,” he replied in his language. “Our protector was reporting to the Council on Ieldraan when Order 66 was activated. The great Lord of All, Odin, came to us the following year and told us there would be no more protectors unless we asked Him to send us some one of His people. So far, we have not needed to call upon Him.”_
> 
> _Luke nodded, processing the information in his mind. His own realm’s problems seemed to spill over into the other nine realms. What he long thought of as a family tragedy turned out to be a universal struggle. He hoped the peace he’d fought for would last and also spread._
> 
> _He repeated his cycle of “odd meals with Jawa monks — meditate — sleep” until he had scanned each of the inhabited planets of Nidavellir and found no sign of Sith corruption. Near the end of the third day, he activated his holocron to return to Ieldraan, surprised to discover some ten days had passed there while he was gone._

“Ask Master Windu if there would be Jawas, did you?” Yoda queries, head tilted.

Luke huffs a loud sigh, folding his black-clad arms across his chest. “Come on, you guys know how I feel about Jawas.”

“Learn cultural sensitivity someday, you will. Or prefer to be a hermit who avoids people, do you?” Yoda pokes at him with an ethereal stick.

“Ha ha, very funny, this from the guy who hid in a swamp for twenty years,” Luke retorts.

“Your father, ask me to have dinner of holy egg, he would not,” Yoda frowned. “In an evil empire, less room for cultural understanding there is. Just survival, and hoping for peace.”

Luke’s silent for a moment, thinking about everyone they lost, all the work that remains. Maybe Leia’s in the right place, helping Bail build something new that can be better. Then he looks up at Yoda and smiles. “Well anyway, let me tell you everything I learned from my new Jawa _friends_.”

******************  
 _Maz Kanata’s Castle. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 7, Week 1, Day 3 (5.7.1.3 ABY)_  
 _Takodana/Ieldraan_

Ben returns to the castle, wiping the sweat from his brow after a vigorous exercise session. He hoped the workout would clear the antsy feeling he's had lately, but it didn't. He's still all wound up, ready for something to happen. Probably, he just needs to get off this planet. He's walking past the cantina area but stops when he sees Chopper at the bar, waving his “arms” around, deep in conversation with some bar patron. 

He turns his steps toward the two, studying the man, who’s facing the bartender, intently. He’s black-haired, human, probably about average height (though Ben’s never sure, once they’re below six feet or so). Strong, garbed in a simple black tunic, pants, and boots. But then the man turns to say something to Chopper and Ben sees his profile — sees the cheek marked with the scar that turns his smile into a sneer. 

It’s Cardo, the Knight of Ren. “Hey!” Ben yells. “Get away from my droid!”

Cardo looks up in feigned surprise, but it’s Chopper who responds. 

_I’m not your droid_ , he whistles, punctuating the sound with a loud raspberry as usual when he is disgruntled. _And I was just trying to help. I know you want to pilot and this man has a job_. (Or at least, that’s approximately what the binary means, far as Ben has learned.)

“So you come up with a piloting job, huh?” Ben raises an eyebrow at Cardo Ren. “Coincidentally, once my droid tells you that’s what I’m looking to do next?”

“Well as it happens someone _killed_ Kuruk, our former pilot,” Cardo responds unsmilingly. “He was a sniper. You happen to know how that happened, Kylo?”

Ben’s silent for a moment. “I told you I was sorry about your guy, but maybe you should learn the lesson that leaving me alone would be in your best interest?”

Cardo snorts. “Look, I’m serious about needing a pilot. Ap’lek said he’d take over for Kuruk but turns out he actually sucks at flying, so we’re in the market for somebody new.”

Ben closes his eyes, sighs. Something is nudging him to actually consider this crazy idea. Here on Takodana, he’s not accomplishing anything. These guys clearly don’t have his best interest at heart, but he can take care of himself. Plus the old adage: _Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer_. Keeping an eye on the Knights and traveling the galaxy on the excuse that he needs a job might make sense in a way that agreeing to join their weird cult did not.

What does the Force tell him? He reaches out subtly, inspecting Cardo’s intent. In moments he’s satisfied: this man at least isn’t going to stab him in the back. That doesn’t tell him much about the other five. 

“Well, what do you think, Chop?” he asks. Cardo smile-sneers, sensing a change in the atmosphere. C1-10P does a little spin and beeps approvingly. 

Ben sighs. “Okay, give me time to eat something. Then you show me your ship. If I’m satisfied with the accommodations, the pay, all that shit, you got yourself a pilot.”

*********************  
 _Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 7, Week 1, Day 3 (5.7.1.3 ABY)_  
 _Chandrila/Ieldraan_

Luke and Leia are laughing at something together on Bail’s veranda, their tunics flapping in the warm breeze off the sea. Now that Luke is coming to terms with Leia’s abandonment of Jedi training for a different path, things are easier between them. Though one of them is 24 and the other is a _grande dame_ of 48, they’re falling into some of the banter and inside jokes appropriate to a brother and sister who grew up together. Which, thanks to the mysteries of the Force, they had in fact done in a way.

Leia had worried that her budding thing with Lando would cause some friction with Luke. She’d confided her concern to Lando as they spooned in his vast luxurious bed at the High Republic Resort & Spa at the end of the festival week. He had laughed in that urbane way of his and assured her that Luke would never get upset with _her_ about it — he was a master at detaching from anyone and everything except for the idea of his family. They’d talked about Vader a bit and eventually fell asleep in one another’s arms. 

It turns out that, even without the Force, Lando is a perceptive judge of character. Leia can sense that her brother doesn’t begrudge her relationship at all. Padmé doesn’t mind the complicated situation of one of her children dating the other’s ex, and even laughed when Leia made a wry crack about them having switched places, with Leia finally dating someone her own age and Padmé involved with a younger man.

Now, as the twins chat together companionably, the Force shimmers around them and the three dead Jedi fade into existence around them. Kenobi is newly returned from his uneventful mission to Niflheim, the barely inhabited realm of ice and fog. Anakin is antsy as ever — Luke isn’t ready for another trip off realm yet, so they can’t make their expedition to Midgard. Yoda returned from Muspelheim a couple of days ago, and it’s his turn for another expedition.

Luke does the Force ghosts a favor and finds the holocrons, and they prepare for their meditation. After finding no trace of Sith corruption on the least Force-sensitive realms, Muspelheim and Niflheim, it’s time to check Jotunheim, realm of the Giants. The presence of the Force there is moderate but tinged with darkness. Dooku was the last assigned realm protector, and it’s thought that local factors on Jotunheim may have contributed to his fall to the Dark. The Giant monarch, Laufey, has long since been killed in conflicts with the Asgardians, but Yoda has little idea what kind of situation exactly he’s projecting himself to today.

“Greetings, Luke and Leia. Pleased am I to have you here to help. Activate the holocron we shall.” The old green Force ghost beckons all the others in the room to gather around and help him in the ritual. “Harder to project to Jotunheim, it will be. Focus we must.”

Together, the three Force ghosts and two living Force-sensitives engage the holocron and work to open the way to project Yoda’s Force presence between realms. Yoda begins to fade from view as he projects to Jotunheim, but he’s only halfway faded when the holocron emits a loud buzzing noise and falls to the floor. Yoda’s Force ghost becomes fully visible again.

“What was that?” Luke asks, bewildered. “Did we get it wrong?”

“No, that was a strong enough connection,” Anakin says decisively. “But it failed mid-transit. Did you feel anything, Master Yoda?”

“Felt something I did,” Yoda nods. “Pushed out violently I was. A power there is, on Jotunheim, and visitors it does not want.”

“Shall we try again?” Obi-Wan suggests with equanimity.

“No, fail again we would. Depend on Asgard we must,” Yoda sighs. “When Mace his next visit makes, implore Thor he can.”

*************  
 _By the Shores of Lake Nymeve. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 7, Week 1, Day 4 (5.7.1.4 ABY)_  
 _Takodana/Ieldraan_

The Knights of Ren’s ship, the _Night Buzzard_ , looks grim but it is otherwise an appealing way off the planet. The cockpit controls are standard and functional. Based on the ships Ben’s flown so far, he’ll easily be able to master this one. Chopper is able to plug into the systems as well.

It’s an old prison ship, so there are many individual rooms. Nothing’s pleasant or comfortable, and Ben’s cubicle reminds him of the time he stayed in a pod hotel at Arlanda airport after an on-site with Voe. But it’s private and secure. Between Chopper’s abilities and the Force, he can lock the others out of his space more effectively than they can lock him in.

“Well?” Cardo asks. He sounds hopeful, a weird look for a black-garbed assassin with a big scar on his face. 

“What’s the pay?” Ben responds with a question of his own. Not like he needs the money, but he wants it to be really clear that he’s coming along for the piloting job, not to join their weird cult and obey Lord Smock. 

“You can settle that with Ren himself. Over my pay grade,” Cardo shrugs. He continues showing Ben around the ship.

In a large cargo hold at the back of the ship, they find the clumsy Force user from the basement confrontation exercising. He stands, wiping his hands on his black cargo pants, and nods briefly to Ben. Without the helmet, he sports a small goatee and mustache, his hair close-cropped and tightly curling.

“I hear you might be joining us as pilot,” he says. “I’m Vicrul. That stunt you pulled with the Force in the castle was…Well let’s just say I’d like to learn a few things from you if we’re traveling around together.”

“Kylo. Thanks. We’ll see,” Ben says laconically, shaking hands and then continuing his tour with Cardo. Tally two who don’t want to kill him.

The vibe is rather different when they encounter Ren himself on the way out of the _Buzzard_. He’s shrugging on a loose vest after applying bacta to a series of angry welts across his shoulders. He stalks over to Cardo and Ben as they enter the lounge area, long hair pulled up into a manbun, deep blue eyes flashing. 

Now that Ben can see Ren’s face, he’s no surer what age the man is. It’s like many of the older Navy guys he’s known. Spend enough time out in the elements, it ages you faster. The lines around Ren’s mouth and the streaks of grey in his hair, the grizzled hair on his corded arms, all speak to an active, difficult life.

“I’m willing to come along as a pilot, assuming the pay is right,” Ben says before Ren can accost him. “Cardo thinks that can solve some problems for your crew, and it gets me on my way. But if you or the others are going to stab me in the back, it won’t turn out great for you.”

Ren snorts. “We’ll see how you like the lifestyle. We do need a pilot. And we’re accustomed to stabbing people in the front. If you’re going to travel with us for more than a few days, though, you’re going to need to fit in.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. “Like how?”

“Get rid of that shit you’re wearing, first of all,” Ren directs, waving his hands up and down at Ben’s mismatched ensemble of Alderaanian and Corellian garb. “Knights of Ren wear black. We’ll stop somewhere so you can buy something that fits. Instead of Kylo, you’ll be Kylo Ren. Mask isn’t important until we see what Lord Snoke thinks.”

Ben nods. He’d rather put off encounters with Lord Snooker as long as possible, but the rest doesn’t sound that bad. “Fine. I keep my droid with me until he wants to go elsewhere. Nobody touches my books and stuff without my permission.”

They spend a few minutes haggling over credits. Ben demands an astronomical sum, Ren demurs, but Cardo points out that Kuruk’s share of the crew’s proceeds would just about cover it. Ren thinks for a moment, then nods. “Welcome aboard, Kylo Ren.”

Ben heads back to the castle to wrap up his affairs there. He tells Chopper what’s going on while he sorts his possessions. All the Corellian clothes that he found in Dengar’s shuttle are staying in the closet; none of them fit perfectly anyway. A few of Bail’s clothes and all his own clothes go in the rucksack with the Sith holocron, ancient books, and the stuff he stole from Yavin IV: weapons, automatic translator, flak jacket. (And Rey’s panties. He's not that kind of a creep, he just wants to give them back the next time he sees her.)

Before they leave, he has Chopper record a holocall for delayed transmission to Leia, Padmé and Bail. He doesn’t want them to be able to track him down, but they need to know about the mysterious threat posed by Snoke. “I’ve taken a job as a pilot with a gang of — I don’t know what they are. Don’t like them too much, but the best way to figure them out is to travel with them. It’s their employer that has me concerned. He’s called Lord Snoke and he’s amassing a collection of Sith artifacts. These guys believe he lives in Wild Space or the Unknown Regions and is super old. But you and I know “Wild Space” and “Unknown Regions” also works as another term for “other realms.” Keep your eyes open. Love you, Mom and Nonna. Don’t believe whatever shit Luke talks about me. See you when I see you.”

Maz shakes her head as she watches them leave.

***************  
 _Algrimmar Fjeld. After the Devastation._  
 _Planet 5/Svartalfheim_

Mace shivers. He’s heard about the Dark World from Thor and Padmé, but everything he heard wasn’t enough of a warning. The dark elves’ dead realm, site of so many wars both among themselves and with the Asgardians, simply oozes with the Dark side of the Force. 

The Jedi Master strides purposefully across a barren plateau, the dust scarred by explosions and strewn with artifacts of battles long past. Generations ago, Svartalfheim had an Asgardian realm protector, tolerated under duress, but since the population was wiped out, the Asgardians and Jedi have left it alone. 

Mace has finally come to reconnoiter. He’s come to this planet in particular because it’s the one where Thor, Jane and Loki had their encounter with Malekith’s crew back in — well, for Agent Nick Fury of SHIELD it was 1960. For Master Mace Windu of the Jedi Council it was 3 years before the fall of the Galactic Republic, though he didn’t know it at the time.

Back then, Thor and Loki believed that they had successfully freed Jane Foster of all traces of the evil Aether. That while Malekith merged with it, and escaped briefly, he was eventually killed right back here on the fifth planet of the dark elves’ realm, crushed under his ship.

Mace approaches the crash site with caution. He settles at the edge of the plateau overlooking the wreckage of the ship. Time passes more slowly here than on Ieldraan — one day here takes about three days there. Little should have changed in an uninhabited realm in ten years of its time except dust settling as it whipped across the plain. But Mace’s trained eye sees signs of disturbance everywhere.

He closes his eyes and reaches out in the Force, imploring the creepy darkness that surrounds him to give up its secrets. The wreck below him feels strangely inert, not like the giant Dark side artifact it ought to feel like if the large quantity of Aether Padmé and Thor had described were still present. 

So he reaches out further, looking for signs of a Dark side presence elsewhere on the planet; after that, he will scan the other planets in the realm. But he doesn’t want to meditate here too long, lest anything evil notice his presence. And he has more stops to make on his journey. 

***************  
 _Somerville, Massachusetts. March 26, 2015_  
 _Earth/Midgard_

The coach waves Rey over as soon as she walks into the gym from the locker room. “I want you to meet Diego,” Guerreiro says. “He’s a middleweight boxer, just joined the gym. You two will learn from each other.” He nods as if all is decided and retires to his corner to watch.

It’s an odd sparring session. Rey has become comfortable with grappling without the gi, with keeping her center of gravity low, watching for the double leg takedown. She’s sparred with some of the Muay Thai guys and got used to the punishing kicks to her shins. But punching still puts her out of her comfort zone, something she needs to get over in order to survive a real MMA bout. Diego’s equally out of his element, despite having some forty pounds on her. He misses with a cross and Rey comes in under his arm, grabbing him for a shoulder throw that leaves him sprawled on his back on the ground, staring up at the ceiling stunned.

Rey offers him a hand and he hops back up, shaking his head ruefully. “Damn girl, you’re good,” he says ruefully.

By the end of the practice both of them are covered in bruises and a few steps closer to being actual mixed martial artists, not a boxer and a judoka. 

Rey makes her way home, soaks in a hot shower, slathers on the arnica gel, devours some leftovers while chatting with Finn. All is as it should be, except the missing piece. Where’s Ben? It almost angers her, that he would make unnecessary promises of coming back for her and then disappear for an unknown time. She stalks upstairs eventually with a small pile of John Buchan paperbacks Poe wanted to get rid of from the shop.

*****************  
 _Leve-Tak’s Plantation. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 7, Week 2, Day 1 (5.7.2.1 ABY)_  
 _Kinyen/Ieldraan_

The Knights of Ren haven’t asked Ben to pilot them very far at all for this first leg of their travels. Kinyen is a homeworld of the Gran, one of the odder species Ben’s seen yet with their triple eye-stalks. The first stop is in the capital city, where Vicrul escorts "Kylo Ren" into a mercenary surplus outfitter. Ben emerges kitted out in sturdy high boots, thermal shirt, leather trousers and jacket, all in black. He looks a bit more like a smuggler than a cult member, but at least he won't deep-six the Knights' gloomy aesthetic. Vicrul insisted he buy multiple shirts and some (black) cargo pants as well, so he'll be good for an extended time in goth mode.

Back on the ship, they take a short hop to a rural location in the planet's southern hemisphere. Apparently, thousands of years ago there were Gran Sith acolytes, and some of them are said to have concealed their books and relics in a warren of tunnels that may or may not be hidden under this farmer’s fields.

Large agro-droids traverse the golden fields back and forth inexorably as the Knights carry out a very uncomfortable conversation with Leve-Tak, the farmer, in his largest granary. Ap’lek has lashed him to a chair and Trudgen is waving menacing weaponry in front of the creature’s eyestalks, causing them to retract in alarm.

Ben watches from the spacious doorway with distaste. He could have anticipated that joining on as the Knights’ pilot would lead him into just the sort of situation he was glad to leave behind with his retirement from active service in the SEALs. 

When Ren himself delivers a harsh backhander to the farmer’s jaw, it’s the last straw. Ben strides into the room purposefully. 

“We need the location of the tunnels, is that correct?” he asks Ren.

“Yes?” The Knights’ leader raises an eyebrow.

“I can discover it for you,” Ben states, raising his hand toward the Gran’s head.

He closes his eyes to concentrate on the Force and what it’s telling him, and gradually extends his consciousness to probe the mind of the terrified farmer. He tries to go about it as gently as possible. The poor man is having a bad enough day as it is, getting tied up and punched by the Knights. Ben is hopeful that he can free this farmer from any further torture by ferreting out the information he doesn’t want to share without further conflict.

Aha. There it is. Ben’s eyes flicker open and he lowers his hand. “I have the information you seek. I can show you the entrance to the catacombs.”

The Knights look shocked but also pleased. Ren has a calculating expression. “Thank you, Kylo. Show me; Ap'lek will guard the farmer in case we are deceived.”

Ben nods and turns toward the door. The vision he gleaned from Leve-Tak's mind suggested the entrance was some distance away, so they go back to the _Night Buzzard_ to get speeders. Vicrul and Ushar accompany Ren and Ben while Cardo, Trudgen and Ap'lek have charge of the ship and the prisoner.

When they get to the rocky hillock that shadows the hidden entrance to the ancient Sith catacombs, Ben points it out to Ren and then steps back to his speeder. "This stuff is for you guys and your Lord Snorkle dude. I'm going back to the ship for a saber workout." He can feel that it irritates Ren and Ushar every time he mocks Snoke's name, but it hasn't reached the point yet where he's endangering himself by pushing them to the boiling point. So he keeps mocking. 

He revs the speeder and zooms away in the direction of Leve-Tak's farm, clouds of dust billowing behind him. As he reaches the border of the farm fields, he pulls over at a non-descript shed. Because there's something he gleaned from the farmer's mind that he didn't share with Ren.

The ancient Gran had been Jedi as well as Sith, and the farmer once turned up some small Jedi relic when plowing a new field. It was the time of the Empire, and he feared to be associated with the proscribed religion, so he hid the relic in a box in this shed. He no longer remembers it; Ben uncovered the memory from the furthest recesses of the Gran's mind. Leve-Tak won't notice if Ben takes the relic, and the Knights of Ren won't be any the wiser, either.

Ben ducks into the shed and finds the box he saw in Leve-Tak's mind under a tarp in a corner of the room. He opens it and takes out the small, warmly resonant relic, tucking it within one of the internal pockets of his leather jacket until he can secrete it among his own possessions back at the ship. 

It's all the work of a minute, then he's back on the speeder and heading back to the _Night Buzzard_. He challenges Trudgen to spar in the cargo area of the ship. It'll be a good workout; Trudgen is still peeved about their earlier encounters, his frustration rolling off him in the Force.

Later that evening, when Ren has returned in happy possession of his Sith artifacts and is making his reports to Snoke from the communications chamber, Ben settles into meditation in his bunk and reaches out with the Force to examine the realm. Is there anything else here they’re missing? 

He doesn’t find any sign of the Gran farmer’s life force, a fact which gives him a bad feeling.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to find out what Rey and Mace have each been up to. Plus, Chopper has some advice for BenKylo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: brief mention of the death of a character who is dead in canon and has not appeared in this fic, in the SARS epidemic back in 2003. If you want to avoid it, skip to the end of the scene once Rose and Rey start discussing robotics. I understand that many of us read fic to get away from the stress of real life. But there is a minor subplot I planned into this fic from almost the very beginning last April that is intended to give a HEA not only to Reylo, Leia & Han, etc., but to many more of us here on Earth. I mean, it’s a crossover world with Star Wars and MCU powers running around, so anything is possible. We deserve a little HEA.

_Hanna City Outskirts. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 7, Week 2, Day 1 (5.7.2.1 ABY)_  
_Chandrila/Ieldraan_

It’s late at night and Padmé is already asleep when Threepio notifies Leia of the incoming holotransmission. Leia puts aside her book — Edith Wharton, tonight — and hastily makes her way to the other room. Normally something coming in at this hour would be related to Bail’s work, but Threepio says this one was addressed to Padmé and herself.

It’s almost too much to hope that it could be Ben. 

So when it _is_ Ben, she’s almost trembling with excitement and worry. Why did having a child never feel like this back on Earth? Oh, probably because she was stoned out of her mind half the time.

His message is mildly confusing, and seriously disturbing. He’s taken a job as a pilot with a criminal gang working for a shadowy dark lord who collects Sith artifacts? Lovely. Leia knows, deep in her bones, that this is not the sort of thing he should be doing alone. She will have to talk to Padmé and Mace about it. Both about how (if) they can aid Ben, and about the dark lord he’s worried about.

She has Threepio analyze the transmission, but there’s little trace of when or where it was sent. Perhaps news reports from somewhere in the galaxy will mention the gang or something. She’ll set news alerts, but honestly at this stage there’s a different gang in every cantina across the galaxy. The New Republic has a lot of work to do to undo the grinding distrust built in communities all across the area the Empire used to rule.

Before she retires to bed she tries to pull up Mace on a holocall, but he is unavailable. She leaves a brief message indicating that they need to talk about Ben when he’s next around. “And look out for a Lord Snoke.”

* * *

  
_Mortis Monastery. Unknown Time._  
_Mortis/Vanaheim_

The first night, Mace takes refuge in a cave on a floating mountain. When he awakens, he finds himself here, at the base of a different rocky outcropping. From it rises a huge structure that even an untrained padawan could feel was dripping with Force energy. He’s heard of this place; it’s the monastery of Mortis, and it was destroyed some 25 years ago (on Ieldraan’s timeline).

As great as his desire is to learn why the monastery is now standing, or to speak to the powerful beings who dwelled there at some time, Mace knows that would be only a distraction. So he turns his back and walks away. Not too far away; he trusts to the Force that it correctly brought him to the time and place that would give him the best chance of uncovering any Sith corruption in this realm. 

Under an ethereal blue tree that glows with a light eerily similar to his holocron, Mace seats himself for meditation and closes his eyes. He stretches out into the Force to scan the brilliantly bright realm of Vanaheim. The Force is stronger here, and lighter even than on Grønnalfheim. There are strains of the Dark, balanced always by Light. There are strange eddies and flows, motions in the Force that make him want to turn his mind from his task and instead follow their siren call.

But Master Windu holds firm to his task. He scans the realm in the Force and is satisfied, eventually, that no Sith corruption has taken hold here. But Vanaheim is confusing and he has no idea how much time has passed, even if he does feel lighter and more refreshed than when he arrived despite taking no food. 

He activates his wayfinder holocron for his next journey. Destination: Asgard, where he can wait off any time anomalies he may have encountered in this weird realm.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. April 2, 2015_  
_Earth/Midgard_

Rey has the closing shift as usual on a Thursday, and things have been pretty quiet. It’s a windy day, though warmer, and the door bangs open, bells clattering, when a new customer comes in. Rey looks up from where she’s been taking inventory and smiles. 

The customer is someone she hasn’t seen before. She has straight black hair cut in fashionable bangs, a bright smile, and a bold emerald green trench coat. An employee badge from one of the hospitals hangs from a lanyard shoved into one of her pockets. 

She crosses to the counter and immediately orders a chai latte. “And I would love to talk with Padmé Naberrie, if she’s here,” she says cheerily as she leaves a healthy tip in the jar. 

Rey smiles ruefully as she steams the milk. “I wish she were! But she is away on family business. Finn Moses and I are managing the cafe in her absence. I’m Rey Santé,” she says. “Is there something I can help you with…?”

“Ah, probably not? I’m her cardiologist, Rose Tico,” the woman says. “I’d promised to drop in on the cafe next month to discuss something that concerned me about, well, her husband and her old job with the government and a bunch of other things! And check in on how she’s been.”

Rey stands there, mouth slightly open, trying to process what she just heard. “Wait, what?”

Rose giggles. “I, uh, had a very odd experience with Mrs. Naberrie and her grandson and husband at Halloween and I wanted to get back in touch.”

“Wow,” Rey says. “Oh, wow. I…I would very much like to talk with you, then, because she left barely a week after that. Her family trip has gone on a lot longer than we expected and some weird things with her grandson…yeah. I’d love to hear about her husband, who I didn’t even know existed? Do you know where he lives?”

“I don’t,” Rose admits ruefully, sipping her piping hot tea. “Do you have time to chat now? I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

Rey looks at the clock, thinks about the number of closing tasks she has ahead of her and the job applications she wants to submit tonight. Her smile falls. “You have a point. I ought to be getting stuff done. How about this,” she says, taking a catering menu and a pen to write down her address and phone number. “Finn and I are having a get-together on Saturday night. If you aren’t on shift, you should come by!”

Rose thinks about her schedule. “I may be on call, but I don’t have to be at the hospital. That sounds great! I love meeting new people. Should I bring something?”

Rey shrugs. “More wine never hurts, but you’re welcome to just bring yourself! I’m going to get back to work, but it was lovely to meet you.” Rose grins in agreement and waves as she heads back out into the gale.

* * *

  
_Algrimmar Fjeld. After the Devastation._  
_Planet 5/Svartalfheim_

The results of his scan of the dark world are grim. Mace has spent an entire standard Svartalfheim day and most of the night — cold, bone-chilling, dead night — in meditation, extending his finely honed consciousness through the Force to examine the dead planets of the realm.

One of the planets, Planet 3 the Asgardian maps called it, pulses with Dark force energy and is inhabited by a not insignificant number of living beings. Lacking any interplanetary transport on this realm, all Mace can do is file away the information so that he can set his destination accordingly if he later returns to Svartalfheim to investigate further. 

Stars, he hopes he won’t have to, but “what Mace Windu hopes” and “what actually happens” have rarely if ever coincided. Just that one day — when his prayer to the Force was “I hope I don’t die from this fall.”

It’s time to leave. He stands, stretches his weary limbs. Takes his trusty holocron out of its silver case and shuts the case firmly, contemplating his next move. What he’d told Obi-Wan and Yoda before he left was that he planned to proceed to Asgard after Svartalfheim, to report to Thor about the force blocking them from Jotunheim. 

But he knows there’s one more realm on their schedule, one none of the Jedi has yet volunteered to visit. It’s a realm too powerful in the Force for the Force Ghosts to be able to project there. Mace is reluctant, knowing as he does what happened when Anakin and Obi-Wan managed to travel there in life. Luke knows nothing of Vanaheim, but Mace is coming to the conclusion he shouldn’t send Luke there either — if only because of what happened with Anakin.

For Vanaheim, the ancestral home of the powerful Vanir and of Frigga, Odin’s powerful wife, is also known as Mortis. Time and the Force flow oddly there; long ago Jedi theorized that time could in fact flow backwards on Mortis. 

Mace hopes — or, shit, he shouldn’t hope, should he. Mace _firmly believes_ it’s unlikely that Palpatine, Palpatine’s son, Palpatine’s acolytes, or any other Dark power has ever figured out how to travel to Mortis. But if they have, he would have the best chance of finding them by traveling there (not always a successful effort, even with a wayfinder).

So even though he hasn’t told anyone of this plan, that is the intent in his mind as he meditates once again, levitating the wayfinder holocron and infusing it with the deep urgency of his desire to travel to Vanaheim. Specifying that he desires to arrive at whatever place and time gives him the best chance of uncovering any Sith corruption… The blue cube glows brilliantly and he feels himself swept away.

* * *

  
_The Night Buzzard. Galactic Standard Year 5 ABY, Month 7, Week 2, Day 4 (5.7.2.4 ABY)_  
_Near Yag’Dhul/Ieldraan_

Ben sets the controls to autopilot and nods to Vicrul, who will monitor the helm while Ben is on his rest break. As usual, he doesn’t socialize much with the Knights. He grabs a warm mug of something tea-like from the galley and retreats to his bunk with Chopper, locking the door and securing it firmly with the Force. 

He isn’t really sure what the relic he found on Kinyen _is_ , but he’s determined to find out. It’s a disk of stone that fits neatly in his palm, engraved with symbols that look cosmological or astronomical in nature. He’s meditated over it each evening and searched through the old Jedi books as best he can. 

Tonight, in his frustration, he tosses the stone on the bed. Chopper rolls over, curious, and whistles animatedly. 

“It looks like something you saw once on Lothal?” Ben asks, unsure if he understood correctly. “Like, that planet way out on the Outer Rim?”

Chopper beeps and bobs his assent. 

“You think we should try to go there?” Ben asks.

Chopper whistles excitedly. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ben shrugs. “Not like I have much control over where we’re going right now. We’ll see how long we stick with this ship, ok Chop? Or who knows, maybe the Knights will want to go to the Outer Rim.”

He shoves the stone disk back deep inside his rucksack and heaves himself up onto the top bunk. Easier to avoid being surprised up there if someone tries to come stab him in his sleep. Not that he’s gotten the feeling from the minds of the Knights that any of them are planning to try to avenge Kuruk. 

Chopper is rolling around the limited floor space performing some sort of diagnostic on his mobility apparatus. Ben stares at the ceiling in a bored funk. The date and time on his trusty wristwatch remind him he’s been away from home for nearly five months now. He wouldn’t have guessed he would miss books and music in English — or, shit, Spanish or Russian would do, anything normal and Earth and home — quite so much. The only things he has around to read are his datapad and the ancient Jedi texts. It’s a lot of mental effort to read in Aurebesh or, for the Jedi and Sith texts, in long-dead scripts and languages. 

He closes his eyes and tries to recall any of the literature he had to memorize for that class back at the Academy — the one with the books Rey was holding when he saw her. The only thing that comes to mind are a few lines of Neruda’s “Sonata y Destrucciones.”

He drifts into a troubled sleep with murmured verses on his lips.

* * *

  
_Somerville, Massachusetts. April 4, 2015_  
_Earth/Midgard_

The vibe in the house on Cooper Street is low key and convivial. It’s just how Rey, Finn and Poe like their occasional house parties, and Rey likes to think Padmé would enjoy this sort of thing too when she gets back (though maybe with fancier glassware). A few friends have already arrived, bringing some pot luck side dishes and plenty of booze. Weird Al’s latest album is playing from the speakers in the next room, the cats are hiding upstairs, and large patchouli-scented candles add to the relaxed atmosphere.

Sabine is mixing espresso martinis and telling Finn about the latest mural she did with Rey’s experimental painting drone. The doorbell rings, announcing the arrival of more guests. 

Rey opens the door to find Dr. Tico. “Come in, Rose, welcome!” she says with a big smile. Rose extends her arms, offering a bottle of Austrian riesling and a takeout bag. 

“I brought dumplings, hope you don’t mind,” Rose says. Rey shakes her head and happily adds the new offerings to the spread in the kitchen. Moments later the doorbell rings — pizza has arrived, and a couple of Poe’s bookstore employees are hot on the heels of the pizza. 

They eat and chat about work and life. Poe and a few of the others eat their pizza in front of the television in the back living room so they can keep an eye on the Final Four — Duke is owning Michigan State pretty hard. When that game ends, Poe turns off the TV, joking with the one Badgers fan in attendance that they will just have to follow the score on their phone. 

“What say all? Dancing or games?” Finn asks, raising his voice above the crowd. Heated debate follows, and eventually they settle on dancing for tonight. Poe queues up a playlist of salsa, disco, and other danceable tunes and pulls the armchairs over to the side of the room and they are ready to go. 

Rey laughs and shakes her head, opting to take a turn at tidying up in the kitchen. No reason to let all this good food go to waste when it can be packed up and refrigerated. Rose hangs back and helps, too.

“Nice bunch of friends you have here,” she offers. “You know, I think this is the address Padmé gave me months ago. She told me to come by the cafe or her home. Did she used to live with you?”

“Yes, this is her house,” Rey nods, scrubbing an empty salad bowl so Sabine can take it back home with her. “Her grandson lived with her, and I moved in a bit more than a year ago — at the end of my fall semester junior year. Then in November Padmé and Ben left, and they said I could rent out rooms if I got lonely, so here we are! Finn joined me first, and then his boyfriend Poe.”

“They seem awesome,” Rose laughs. She takes a long drink of her wine, leaning against the counter. “Weird that Padmé has been away so long, though. She didn’t give any indication she was not going to be around in the spring, at least not when I discharged her from the hospital.”

“I know, right?” Rey concurs. “Now, you said you met her husband? I didn’t even know her husband was alive.”

Rose nods avidly. “Yeah. It was super weird.” She’s had a few glasses of wine, but she checks herself for a moment. There’s a line between gossip and protected health information. It’s a line that will be very hard to avoid crossing if she ever wants to discuss the mystery of Mr. Skywalker, but she can at least compare some notes. “Mr. Skywalker, her husband, is young and hot. He’s like twenty-something, very goth. Scar on his face.”

Rey’s brow furrows. “I met a guy that looked like that at Halloween. He came by the cafe and wanted me to tell him where Padmé lived. You’re sure he was really her husband and not a scammer?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. He’s her husband. He’s even Ben Solo’s grandfather,” Rose says before catching herself and clapping her hand over her mouth with a gasp. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You shouldn’t have said he’s Ben’s grandfather? You mean, it’s actual health information that…weird,” Rey says, the impossibility dawning on her.

“Oh, crap. I give up. Yeah. Please don’t tell anyone I said this, but after we ran the DNA test I thought it was some sort of weird cloning thing with Padmé’s old employer, the SHIELD agency. I’m strongly opposed to human cloning on an ethical basis, so I wanted to hash it out with Padmé. She assured me there was some other explanation, but asked me to wait until May to come talk to her about it. And now where is she?”

“Well, who knows. Maybe she’ll be back in May?” Rey suggests hopefully. “Why did you come a month early anyway?”

“Ah, yes. That.” Rose pushes off from the counter, her wine sloshing slightly in its glass, and pulls out a chair from the kitchen table, now mostly cleared of the detritus of the potluck. She sits down with a sigh. Most of the people at this party are several years younger than her, but it’s not age that makes it hard for her to hold her liquor. She just works so much she rarely gets the chance to party. “I came because I realized cloning was not the only explanation. SHIELD apparently has some advanced cryopreservation techniques. I read a leaked research study about a super-soldier…anyway. If Padmé were pregnant and then her husband was cryonically preserved, he could seem to be still the same age as his grandson.”

“Whoa,” Rey says, astounded. “I have…no idea what to say to that. Sounds scientifically unlikely, but plausible maybe?” 

Rose shakes her head. It does sound crazy, but so does most everything she read about SHIELD. “When I graduated medical school I thought everything had a scientific explanation. But I underestimated how crazy the scientific explanations could get,” she concludes with a broad gesture of her hands and both girls dissolve into giggles.

“So, Rey, I didn’t get to ask. What do you do other than running the cafe?” Rose asks when they have regained their breath.

“I’m in the last semester of my engineering degree at Tufts,” Rey responds. “I specialize in robotics.”

“Robotics?” Rose asks eagerly. “That’s awesome! You know, I have an idea for a project with a robotic component.”

Rey raises an eyebrow, then pours herself a glass of scotch and sits down at the kitchen table next to Rose. “Tell me.”

In the next room, the thumping beats fade in and out of the laughter of the crowd. In the bright, cluttered kitchen, Rose hesitates before sharing her story. “So, my older sister Paige was an investment banker. Her first job was in Hong Kong. She was there during the SARS outbreak back in 2003. One of her roommates was a doctor, and Paige contracted the disease. She died. It really impacted my career choice when I graduated college in 2005. I wanted to be able to help other people not lose their loved ones.” Rose talks about the death and her decision with matter-of-fact determination and no room for tears. Rey can’t imagine the depth of her loss. She always wished she could have a sister, but somehow having one and losing her might be even worse than always lacking. She reaches across the table to clasp Rose’s arm in a gesture of consolation.

Rose continues. “Anyway, I’m a cardiologist now. I’m well placed to help people suffering from scary diseases, and even the ones who are just suffering from eating McDonald’s every day. But I can’t get my hospital’s governing board to invest in training the number of people we would really need to save lives if something like SARS were to happen here in Boston. So I was thinking, could I invent a robotic device that would be able to tend patients on ventilators, monitor their oxygen levels, all that stuff? I think it could be a really great lifesaver.”

Rey nods, her eyes narrowed in thought. “I’d love to help you design that. Obviously the trials would need to be intense. But a prototype, proof of concept? To get it to investors who could take it through testing? Totally,”

“Awesome!” Rose exclaims, clinking glasses. “I think this will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

* * *

  
_Bifrost Bridge. In the Reign of Odin Allfather._  
_Asgard_

“You back again?” Heimdall grouches when he sees Mace approaching. It’s just an act, of course. He’s glad to see his old friend back safely. The Jedi Master is reaching an age where he really ought to consider settling down here on Asgard perpetually, free of age and care and worries. But he’ll never be convinced, at least not while there are only two known living Jedi.

“That I am,” Mace smiles. He feels a little out of it after the bizarre experience of Vanaheim, but not out of it enough that he can’t rib his old friend a bit. “How’s my favorite ex-Sith apprentice?”

Heimdall rolls his golden eyes. “I told you to lay off it, Jedi. You know my arcane skills come in handy. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t know when it’s safe to go back to Ieldraan without bumping into your pre-Vanaheim self.”

“Yeah, yeah. If your eyesight was really that good, you’d be able to accomplish the crazy task we’ve got going on right now without stirring a foot,” Mace taunts lightly.

“And what task is that?” the golden-armored warrior crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow inquiringly. There are, of course, things he can’t do — largely ones Odin or the Norns have prohibited him from doing, like pointing out the location of the child Thor misplaced on Midgard years ago.

“We’re looking for signs of Sith corruption on the ten realms. There’s some concern that Palpatine may have survived, or that his acolytes are gathering. And we just learned that he had a son, whereabouts unknown. We want to be sure that the Empire is really ended,” Mace explains.

“My old master Sidious certainly appears to be dead,” Heimdall says as he stares into the distance. “I am strictly forbidden to tell you anything of his son, but I would not worry. There is, however, some Dark activity on Svartalfheim and Jotunheim. It does not appear to be concerted.”

“Any chance you want to visit Jotunheim and the third planet of Svartalfheim and check it out?” Mace asks pleasantly. He knows what answer he’ll get.

Heimdall laughs shortly and without mirth. “You know the rules, Master Windu. My life was spared. But I can never leave Asgard. I must serve Odin here, within his supervision.”

Mace sighs. “Ah, well. And here I thought following rules was just for Jedi. But if you can’t help, and Thor’s grounded for the moment, do you think Sif or one of the Warriors could help me out?”

“Sif help you out?” Heimdall snorts derisively. “You, best friend of Jane Foster? Guess again.”

Mace frowns, in silence. Eventually Heimdall interrupts his musing.

“When the time that is fated arrives, you’ll get there,” he says in a cryptically prophetic tone.

Mace pats Heimdall on his solid shoulder. “Whatever that means, my man, whatever that means.” He strides citywards. Time to pressure Thor, yet again, even if he knows it's unlikely the Thunderer will be able to come aid the Jedi on their quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have read this chapter and wondered: did the author have a copy-paste error and put some of Mace’s scenes in the wrong order? The answer is no — the scenes are in the correct order, as they would appear to have happened to an external observer, say Heimdall. Throughout this work I am trying very hard to move inexorably forward and not flashback to events that happened at earlier times except in rare cases where a character reminisces or recounts an earlier experience. Mace just encountered a time anomaly. 
> 
> Many apologies for the long posting delay. I’m self-employed. In March when I started posting this fic I was paid for six hours of work the entire month. Last month I was paid for 70 hours of work. This is good news for my family but bad news for my non-work life, especially hobbies like baking, exercising, and writing this fic for you! I am persisting but it may be slow for a bit.
> 
> The lines Ben remembers from Neruda:  
> …en mis abandonados dormitorios donde habita la luna,  
> y arañas de mi propriedad, y destrucciones que me son queridas,  
> …y el patrimonio estéril, y el domicilio traidor.  
> Quién hizo ceremonia de cenizas?  
> Quién amó lo perdido, quién protegió lo último?  
> En hueso del padre, la madera del buque muerto,  
> y su propio final…

**Author's Note:**

> Stay healthy, my friends! Thank you for the thoughtful comments. They make my day.


End file.
